


This Is Us

by delicatelyglitterywriter



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Multi, One Shot, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:05:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 45,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8407972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicatelyglitterywriter/pseuds/delicatelyglitterywriter
Summary: A series of unrelated one-shots from my Tumblr. Some will be fluffy, some will be angsty. We'll see with what people prompt me with.





	1. She'll Be Back

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Fitzsimmons (of course, who else haha) + 60. “Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…”
> 
> Pretty sure that this was meant to be fluffy, but I just had a lot of feelings after the most recent episode.

“Do tell.”

Jemma stood there with her eyebrows raised and her arms crossed. She didn’t know whether to be amused or disappointed. 

“It was Daisy’s idea.”

“No, Fitz, don’t go blaming Daisy. She’s-”

“It’s true!” Fitz insisted. 

“She’s not here, Fitz! How could it possibly-”

“She came up with the idea shortly before the whole Maveth thing!” Fitz cut in again. “But I couldn’t find one until recently.”

“But why couldn’t you have waited until she came back to get it?”

“I made a promise, okay?” Fitz rubbed his brow. “I promised her I’d get _this_  model.”

“Okay, but I still don’t understand-”

“It’s _rare_ , Jemma.” Fitz emphasised his words with a hand gesture. “If I’d waited, there’s no guarantee I’d have been able to get it.

Jemma nodded slowly in understanding. She uncoiled her arms and delicately ran her fingers over the machine cautiously. 

“You do realise this is highly immature, right?” Fitz chomped down on his bottom lip to keep from giggling like a twelve-year-old.

“It’s Daisy,” he said instead, with a relatively straight face. “What do you expect?”

“True,” Jemma chuckled. Just then, it let out a loud fart sound, causing Jemma to jump back and wrinkle her nose up in disgust. Fitz, however, threw back his head and laughed.

“Fitz!” Jemma whined. 

“Jemma!” Fitz imitated her tone in between bouts of laughter, eliciting a small smile from her. She ducked her head as she pushed him playfully backwards.

"I hate you, Fitz.”

“Nah, you don’t.” His laughter died down when Jemma suddenly went eerily quiet. “Jemma?”

“How long do you think it’ll be?” 

“I don’t know.”

Both of them stood in silence, heads down for a moment until Jemma spoke up again. 

“Do you think she’ll ever-”

“Yes.” Fitz had no doubt about it in his mind. He knew she’d come back, someday. She had to. “And when she does, this’ll be waiting for her.”

He smiled weakly at the fart machine sitting on the desk. Jemma didn’t miss the way he said “when” instead of “if”. It made her feel warm. Hopeful. Neither one of them knew what happened, but the next thing they knew, they found themselves in each other’s arms, sharing a comforting kiss.

Jemma pulled away first after a long moment. 

“In that case, let’s put that somewhere safe.”

“Agreed.”

As they walked off with the machine together, it let out another noise, drawing laughs from both of them this time. 


	2. Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fitzsimmons + "WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT FILL UP A “SUPER BIG GULP” CUP WITH 5 HOUR ENERGY AND CHUG THE WHOLE THING. MY HEART HAS EITHER STOPPED COMPLETELY OR IS BEATING SO FAST THAT I CAN’T FEEL MY OWN PULSE.❜

Go on a road trip, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

Coulson’s idea of “fun” _clearly_  differed from Jemma’s view of fun. This was _not_  fun. It was a nightmare. She gripped the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white. Beside her in the passenger seat, Fitz was clearly having a hard time, too. With his arm rested against the door holding his head and his leg shaking with the rapid bouncing of his foot, both of them shared the same thought.

We should have brought a damn icer. 

_**1 hour earlier** _

Jemma pulled up at the rest station and shut off the ignition. Daisy, Trip, Bobbi and Hunter were out of the van before Jemma could even unbuckle her seatbelt. She couldn’t help but smile a little bit. 

Coulson had been right, this road trip _was_  exactly what they all needed.

She and Fitz joined hands as they walked inside, and then split to collect up a few supplies. The others were already taking care of stocking up on snacks. Jemma wandered over to the medicine section and selected a few things they might need. She nearly dropped her items out of fright when she suddenly heard Fitz shout “No!”

She hurried over to where she heard his voice and her eyes widened at the scene in front of her. Daisy was holding a “Super Big Gulp” cup in her hand with a mischievous smile and the others egging her on. Fitz was doing his best to split up the group.

“Daisy, whatever you do, do _not_  fill that up and chug it!” he said sternly, pointing his finger at her much like a school teacher telling off a misbehaving school student. 

“Or what?” Daisy asked giggling, Fitz’s warning clearly lost on her. Jemma licked her lips, suddenly nervous. If she downed that…Jemma couldn’t even finish the thought, so many scenarios ran through her head.

“Daisy, please don’t!” Jemma pleaded, closing the distance between her and the group. “Have you forgotten about your powers? If you downed that-”

“It’ll be fine, Jemma!” Bobbi cut her off, dismissing her comment. “Daisy knows how to control her powers.”

“Just remember you said that when our van gets shaken right off the road!” Fitz hissed.

“Guys, I can handle it!” Daisy said, calm as a cucumber. She turned and began to fill the cup up. Fitz and Jemma continued to plead with her, even going so far as to try and grab the cup from her. But the others playfully blocked them and grabbed them away from Daisy a couple of times. 

They were having too much fun, Jemma realised suddenly, pulling herself from Hunter’s grip. That’s why they were acting like teenagers. They’d probably had too many snacks. 

Perhaps this road trip wasn’t the best idea after all. 

The next thing they knew, Fitz and Jemma watched as Daisy climbed up on top of the ice cream freezer and chugged the _entire_ drink down, the others cheering. Jemma was nothing short of horrified.

“Jemma, pay for those before we get kicked out,” Fitz urged her, knowing there was nothing they could do to stop this now. Fitz was right; no sooner had she finished purchasing her items that she saw security escorting her friends out. She sighed and fought back the embarrassment rising to her cheeks.

“Thank you, ma’am, have a nice day.”

“You too,” Jemma said, rushing to leave. That was one place she was never going back to. At least not with them. 

She slammed the door as she climbed in, the sound drowned out with the other’s laughter. She took off, not saying a word.

_**Present time** _

The noise in the back was almost unbearable, and Jemma’s patience was running thin. The straw that broke the camel’s back was Daisy.

“MY HEART HAS EITHER COMPLETELY STOPPED OR IS BEATING SO FAST I CAN’T FEEL MY OWN PULSE!” she shrieked gleefully over the others. Jemma almost slammed on the brakes. Fitz’s fists instantly clenched. This is exactly why they’d told Daisy _not_  to. 

Two seconds later, the van began to shake. Fantastic. This certainly was the icing on top of Jemma’s anger cake. 

The others weren’t helping. They were laughing along about how awesome a shaking van, going 60 miles and hour Jemma might add, felt while moving. Every muscle in her body tensed and she tried _really_  hard to keep the van as well as her temper under control. 

But it only took a short while for both to slip from under her control. 

It was then that Jemma decided that she’d had enough. She pulled over and slammed her hand against the wheel as she shouted her friends in the back.

“Enough!” A silence fell over the group. It was the sweetest sound she’d heard all day. “Everybody out! And take your bags with you.”

The team were too shocked and scared by her outburst that they did so silently. 

“Door,” Jemma barked. Daisy stepped forward and closed the door. Had not Jemma been so irritated, she’d have laughed at their confused looks. Once the door slid shut, she floored it, leaving the others stranded on the side of the road.

They drove in silence for a few moments, before Fitz started to laugh.

“What?” Jemma snapped. 

“That’s got to be the first time you’ve actually done something about annoying passengers.” Upon Jemma’s brief glare, Fitz caressed her shoulder. “It’s adorable, Jemma. I’m laughing because you’re being really cute.”

Even though she didn’t it want to, she felt some of her anger subsiding.

“Ugh, you are _so_  cliche, Fitz!” That earned her an extra laugh from him. They drove a few more minutes in relative silence, allowing both of them some time to calm down. 

“You know, Coulson’s not going to be too happy that we ditched them in the middle of nowhere,” Fitz said. Jemma shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“Before we left, he said we were to have a relaxing time. Our tag-alongs were not relaxing, so we took appropriate measures to make ourselves feel relaxed again.” Fitz smiled at her comment.

“You thought about that the moment you considered throwing them out.” Jemma’s smile confirmed his suspicion. “Clever, Simmons.” 

Jemma smiled. Yes, this road trip was going to be exactly what her and Fitz needed.


	3. Haunted House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fitzsimmons + "There are certain moments where I consider you someone with brilliant dieas and a good future. This is not one of those moments"

“You know, Jemma, there are certain moments where I consider you someone with brilliant ideas and a good future,-”

“Because I _am_  brilliant and I _do_  have a good future.”

“ _But_  this is _not_  one of those moments,” Fitz finished firmly. Jemma rolled his eyes at him, but couldn’t help but smile.

“Relax, Fitz! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Death,” he answered immediately. “Or did you forget about that incident with May?”

“ _Don’t_  bring that into this,” Jemma snapped. “That was different. There were actual ghosts involved. This one is just people pretending to be ghosts.”

“But-”

“I’ve got some of the needles for if we come across the _highly unlikely_  scenario that there are real ghosts here.”

Fitz slumped his shoulders, having nothing to answer with. This was a bad idea, he was sure of it. He just couldn’t ignore the tight feeling in his stomach. Maybe it was just the fear of entering a haunted house. He shrugged it off and grabbed Jemma’s hand as they both entered.

The place was impressive as far as haunted houses went. It was spotless - if you didn’t count the dried blood on the walls (which Fitz hoped was fake) and the scary images plastered around everywhere.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Jemma gushed. Fitz shrugged.

“Sure, if you consider haunted places to be ‘magnificent’.” Jemma whacked him lightly on the arm, smiling. 

“Try looking at how real the props look,” she suggested, wandering over to the blood to investigate. Fitz tried what she had said, and quickly found himself admiring how much effort had gone into making it feel real. 

The pair wandered from room to room, analysing each prop and laughing. 

They were in a child’s nursery, pointing out the props again when thunder rumbled in the distance. Jemma’s grin grew wider.

“Isn’t this just perfectly scary? A storm approaching while we’re in a haunted house!”

“Perhaps we should leave,” Fitz suggested, raising his eyebrows contemplatively. “Just so we don’t get caught in the storm.”

Jemma furrowed her brow thoughtfully. She _would_  like to stay and be even more spooked by the storm, but Fitz was probably right. If they were still here when the storm came, there’d be no way of telling how long they’d be stuck there. While neither one of them was scared, neither of them were too keen about spending the night in a haunted house - especially not with strangers around. Jemma had seen some teenage boys before, and she wasn’t too keen on dwelling on thoughts of what they might do if they all got stuck. 

“You’re right, let’s go,” Jemma decided, heading for the door. Just then, the power went out, causing Jemma to jump. A second later, she felt a flashlight pressed into her hand. 

“I brought them, just in case.” Jemma smiled gratefully at him, ignoring the gnawing in the pit of her stomach growing larger with each passing second. 

“Fitz, wait,” she whispered, putting her hand on her boyfriend’s arm. Fitz stopped in his tracks. “I have a bad feeling.”

“It’s just a power outage, Jemma,” he assured her quietly, although still turned around fully. “It’s probably just part of the experience.”

Jemma laughed nervously, thankful that Fitz was trying to comfort her. 

“I don’t know, Fitz,” she sighed. “I just…”

A scream from downstairs followed a second later, causing Jemma to almost jump out of her skin. Fitz put his arms around her, but she pulled back, reaching for the door.

“Jemma? What are you doing?”

“Closing the door.” He could hear the fear in her voice, and heard the soft click of a lock locking. He was confronted with Jemma’s terrified face.

“Woah, Jemma, calm down,” he soothed. “It’s all probably-”

“No, Fitz,” she cut him off. She took a deep breath to get her nerves to stop shaking before she continued. “I’ve been to haunted houses before. Screams are _always_  followed with laughter, or _some_  other noise. Either laughing because they were scared by nothing, or crying because they’re too scared, or more screaming. Listen.”

Fitz strained his ears to hear something, but couldn’t hear anything.

“I can’t hear anything.”

“Exactly.” 

The tight feeling that Fitz had had earlier came back, gripping even tighter than before. Jemma was right, it was too quiet. He held his flashlight a little tighter.

“We should notify Coulson. It could be nothing, or it could be something big. Better safe than sorry, right?”

Jemma nodded in agreement, dropping to her knees and digging through Fitz’s backpack which he’d dumped on the ground upon entering the room. Jemma had just pulled out the iPad when another cry came from somewhere else in the house.

“No! Please, no! Please, don’t! NO!”

Jemma took a deep breath to keep her nerves in check and Fitz gulped.

“Not good.”

“No, not at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, DUUUUUNNNNNNNNN. What happens next??? Should I write the rest of this, or leave it there?


	4. Pizza for Jemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "pizza"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between seasons 2 and 3.

It started in the back of the armoury. It trailed through the hall, into the janitor’s closet, then out again, up a flight of stairs, through the recreational area and into the kitchen. 

Bobbi was sure she’d never seen so much flour in her life. On the floor, no less. According to her knowledge, flour belonged in different recipes, not all over the floor. She wondered why anyone would have flour in the back of the armoury to begin with. 

Her questions were answered when she entered the kitchen and saw Daisy covered head to toe in flour. It was like a flour bomb had exploded. She looked a little like a ghost, and Bobbi had to try not to laugh.

“What’re you doing?” Daisy looked up from aggressively trying to knead the bread. Trying being the operative word. 

“I’m making pizza. Want some?” Bobbi couldn’t stop the smile, but was able to bite back on the laugh. Daisy looked similar to a five-year-old desperately trying to prove that she could cook on her own. 

“Daisy,” Bobbi said gently, as if she _were_  talking to a small child, “last time I checked, your cooking skills weren’t exactly up to par.”

Daisy scowled at her, and Bobbi was almost certain that either a child _had_  inhabited Daisy’s body, or that Daisy was having one of her “I want to be a kid again” days. She was placing her money on the latter.

“I can cook fine by myself,” Daisy grumbled, looking back down at the bread. “It’s the food that’s not cooperating.” 

That confirmed the latter. If it were the former, she’d not have used a word such as “cooperating” (not many children knew that word). Bobbi sighed softly, feeling sympathy for her friend. These days were becoming more frequent since Jemma had been swallowed by that rock. 

Bobbi hadn’t known Jemma as well as the rest of them, but she’d liked her. She’d thought of Jemma as intelligent and brave, and hoped that she was surviving on the other side of the rock. She could sympathise with those who had cared deeply about Jemma - it was always hard losing a loved one. 

Particularly on an orphan who considered someone as her sister. It was only understandable that she was retreating back into a shell of childlike tendencies - to create a safe cocoon where naivety and happiness reside; to make herself forget. 

Bobbi reached out and tenderly touched the hacker’s arm. She looked up, and Bobbi almost cried, seeing the pain on Daisy’s face. She did the only thing she could. She pulled Daisy in for a tight hug. It wasn’t long before the younger one was crying in her arms. She did her best to soothe her. 

“I miss her so much.” It came out slurred and hiccuped, but Bobbi understood. A single tear slipped out of her eye. It hurt to see those you cared for hurting. 

“I know.” 

The two stood there for an undetermined amount of time, simply hugging. Eventually, Daisy’s tears slowed and her breathing returned to normal, and she pulled away.

“I’m sorry.” The words were barely above a whisper, but they reverberated off the silence in the kitchen.

“You don’t have to be sorry for missing someone,” Bobbi said, caressing her arms. Daisy nodded, looking down at the floor. “Let’s finish making those pizzas now, okay?”

Daisy nodded again, turning back to the dough. Her arms were crossed across her chest, and Bobbi gently pried them away. 

“You can’t very well make pizza with your arms crossed.” Her statement elicited a small laugh and she smiled softly. Just then, a quiet voice in her head (probably her inner Psychology student) whispered an idea into her head.

“Hey, how about we make a pizza for Jemma?” Bobbi suggested. Daisy’s head shot up. “You know, for when she comes back. What do you think?”

Daisy nodded slightly, managing a small smile. For the first time since Jemma had gone, she felt hope. 

“I think I like that idea.”


	5. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off the prodigal son in Luke 15. I just have a lot Daisy feels right now.   
> Angst with a happy ending.

How had it come to this?

She’d managed find on her own for years before all the SHIELD stuff happened. Why, then had she not been able to manage this time around?

She had nothing. She’d had to sell all her stuff, then her van. She had no food, no money, no resources, no job and nowhere to stay. 

She sat sadly on a concrete step outside of in front of a building. She’d not bothered to check what kind of building it was before she sat down.

“Hey.” A voice caused her to look up. A man, perhaps Malaysian, Filipino or Indonesian looked down at her. “You look like you could use a job.”

Daisy turned her head and discovered that the building she was sitting in front of was an unemployment centre. She almost laughed at the irony. 

“Yeah.” She managed a weak smile. “That’d be nice.”

“Well, it just so happens I’m in need of another worker at my restaurant. I’m Budi, by the way.” He held his hand out, which she accepted. 

“Daisy.” 

For the first time since she’d left, things were perhaps looking up.

 

_**22 days later…** _

****If this wasn’t rock bottom, Daisy wasn’t sure what was. She’d been hand-washing dishes in the back of Budi’s restaurant for 22 days now. Eleven hours a day, kneeling on hard, concrete floors, washing hundreds of dishes, and all for what? Just above the minimum wage! She had to sleep in cardboard boxes in the alley behind the restaurant, and was forced to eat the cheapest fast food she could find.

In between waiting to get paid every Sunday, she often used up what little cash she received, and was forced to eat the customer’s leftovers for several days in between paychecks. It was unhygienic and barely enough to sustain her, but what else could she do? She was starving.

After the restaurant closed, she curled up inside her little cardboard house, burying herself in newspapers and sighed. She was so tired of this. She was cold, tired, starving and homeless.

She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help but think back to her SHIELD days. She’d never been in need there; there’d always been plenty of food and warm beds and people who cared for each other. Even the janitors were in a better position than Daisy was at that moment. _The janitors_ , for the love of all things good!

The voices in her head whispered for her to go back, but she tried to shush them. The team wouldn’t want to see her again. Not after she’d walked away from them the way she had. Maybe she could try and get a job as a janitor. At least then she’d have somewhere to stay and wouldn’t have to starve.

Swallowing her pride, she stood up and cast one last look back at the restaurant before trudging off towards the base. Budi would have to find a new dish washer.

 

_**Some time later…** _

****It has been 2 months since Jeffery Mace had stepped down as SHIELD director. Well, that’s what the press said anyway. Daisy suspected it was closer to a forced removal, given is dishonesty about his identity. Jemma Simmons had replaced him. And don’t her her wrong, Daisy was happy for her, she really was - Jemma deserved it.

It’s just that it would make her reunion with Jemma painful and incredibly humbling.

No matter how slow she had tried to walk, Daisy found herself in front of SHIELD headquarters sooner than she would have liked. Before she could think through what to do, the door opened, revealing Coulson and the others.

“Daisy!” Jemma sounded shocked. Not happy, or sad, or excited, or disappointed. Just shocked. “What are you doing here?”

Daisy bowed her head in shame. “Looking for a job as a janitor.”

No one spoke for the longest ten seconds Daisy had ever experienced. They were all probably angry and disappointed with her.

“Why are you so skinny?” Jemma’s question caused Daisy’s head to shoot up. Upon her confused look, Jemma continued. “You look awfully malnourished.”

Daisy dropped her graze to the ground again and licked her lips.

“Daisy.”

“I kinda ran out of money and had to eat scraps and fast food,” she admitted, feeling incredibly embarrassed. She was Daisy Johnson! She shouldn’t have to come crawling back malnourished, filthy and weak.

Another excruciatingly long silence passed, and then Jemma began barking out orders.

“Fitz, warm up the lasagne in the fridge. Coulson, prepare a nice warm bath for her. May, get some fresh clothes for her. Mack, Elena, get the couch ready. Make sure there are lots of pillows. And fetch her the warmest, fluffiest blanket we have.”

Each team member broke away to complete their assigned tasks. Daisy said nothing as Jemma guided her through the base to the bathroom and helped her into the tub. Jemma then proceeded to roll up her sleeves and wash Daisy gently. Daisy remained quiet until the question gnawing away at her suddenly burst forth.

“Why are you doing this?” The question must have caught Jemma off guard because she stopped rubbing Daisy’s back. 

“Pardon?”

“Why are you looking after me like this? I don’t deserve it. I’m just a potential janitor.” Her voice wavered and she felt tears burning in her eyes. She blinked them back.

“Oh, Daisy,” Jemma murmured before answering the question. “I’m your friend; it’s my job to look after you. And you are _clearly_  need to be taken care of. When was the last time you had a shower?”

Daisy shrugged, suddenly becoming very interested in the soap suds in the tub.

“That long, huh?” Jemma’s voice wasn’t admonishing or scolding. It was kind and gentle, similar to a mother’s tone. Daisy could only manage a tiny nod before a tear slipped out. 

“I’m so sorry.” It was barely a whisper, but Jemma heard it. She pulled Daisy close to her chest, where Daisy cried. Daisy didn’t know how much time passed before she stopped crying, but the water was now lukewarm.

“Feel a bit better?” Daisy nodded mutely, letting Jemma finish washing her quickly and help her get dressed. Jemma then led Daisy through the base to the couch, which was thoroughly lined with pillows. She was wrapped up in the blanket and a large, steaming plate of lasagne was placed in front of her. 

Her stomach’s growl was so loud, Daisy was a little bit surprised it didn’t cause an earthquake or something. A murmur of laughter rippled around the group and then they started chatting as Daisy ate her lasagne. It felt just like old times, and Daisy felt the urge to cry again. 

“Daisy?” Coulson’s voice was concerned and she vaguely registered him taking her hand in his. She forced back the tears and then pulled her hand away, even though it had felt really nice. 

“Aren’t you guys mad at me?” The question was out before Daisy’s brain could check in. She lowered her gaze to the blanket in shame.

“Yeah,” Fitz said, causing her to look up again. “We are. But we’re more relieved and happy that you’re back than we are mad.”

A murmur of agreement came from the others and this time Daisy did cry. Fitz had said it. Fitz. The very same person who had yelled at her about turning her back on them just a few months ago. 

All of them reached out and touched her comfortingly as she cried. No one had to say anything; all their words were said through their touches. 

“I’m so sorry,” Daisy uttered out between sobs. All of them gave her squeezes that said the same thing - they forgave her and were glad that she was back. It should have soothed her, but it instead made her cry harder. The others were patient with her as she let it all out. 

But her crying abruptly stopped as she heard an unfamiliar female voice.

“Should I get you a tissue?” She looked up and saw a beautiful young woman with dark brown hair and kind brown eyes. 

“Who the hell…?” Daisy mumbled. A second later, Radcliffe appeared, looking flustered.

“I am so sorry. I was trying to do an update and…oh, hello Daisy! Good to see you again!” He gave her a smile, which she did her best to return and then turned his attention back to the woman, guiding her out of the room. “AIDA, we’ve talked about this. You can’t just walk out in the middle of an update! And we’re going to have to work a bit on social etiquette…”

Daisy looked back to her team questioningly, all of whom seemed highly amused by what just happened. 

“A lot of stuff happened while you were away,” Coulson said. “We’ll have to catch you up after you finish your food.”

Daisy smiled a little. It was bigger than the others she had attempted before, and her heart felt a little less broken than it had the night before. If she was completely honest with herself, she’d missed this a lot. It felt really good to be home.

It felt even better to be able to call it home. 


	6. The Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tickle torture is one of the more effective methods in exactracting information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I helps if you read "Shocking" by Book_freak before you read this.   
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/6612760

The light was dim. There were two chairs, separated by a table. It was a scene straight out of a movie.

Except for the fact that the table was was the one they ate at and the chairs were the ones they sat in to eat. And the light was a vintage lamp, hence the dimness.

“Where is it, Daisy?” Bobbi placed her hands flat on the table, overshadowing the hacker. Daisy smiled innocently up at her.

“Where is what?” Bobbi’s lips twitched upwards, and she let out a humourless breath of laughter as she pushed herself up off the table. 

"Cute.” Bobbi nodded as she stood back, arms across her chest. Daisy continued to look innocently at her. “The doughnut, Daisy. Where is it?”

“Oh! You mean that lousy doughnut!” Daisy said in an over-dramatic tone of realisation. “What’s so special to you about that old thing?”

Bobbi raised her eyebrows, as if _daring_  Daisy to insult the doughnut again.

“Daisy, Daisy, Daisy,” she chastised, once again leaning on the table. “It’s not _just_  a doughnut. It is a mega-sized, chocolate filled, vanilla glazed doughnut. _With sprinkles_. Do you realise just how rare of a find that is?”

She pushed herself up again and circled slowly to behind Daisy, the same way a lion might circle its prey. She placed her hands on Daisy’s shoulders and leaned in close to her ear.

“So, you’re going to tell me where it is.”

Daisy almost had to laugh at how cliche it all was. Even the way Bobbi had tied her to the chair was cliche. But she swallowed her laughter and kept the game up. 

“What makes you think I haven’t already eaten it myself?”

“If you had, your breath would smell like mint from trying to cover it up. It doesn’t.”

“Wow, look at you, Sherlock.” Bobbi allowed a small smile on her part, and paused to let Daisy gloat in her smugness for a moment. It was going to be that much sweeter when she broke.

“So, are you going to tell me where it is, or am I going to have to force it out of you?” She punctuated her question with a firm squeeze of Daisy’s shoulders. 

“Ooh, I’m _so_  scared,” Daisy drawled, sarcasm dripping off every word. But Bobbi could feel small waves of nervousness rolling off her. Excellent.

“Have it your way.” Bobbi lifted from Daisy’s shoulders, barely able to keep the smile from her voice. “Lincoln!”

“Wait, what?” Daisy’s interested piiqued. Lincoln emerged from the shadows, small bolts of electricity sparking in his hands. Daisy suddenly felt rather uneasy. “What’s going on?”

Lincoln flashed a wicked smile at her, and Daisy swallowed. Hard.

“Lincoln?” He sparked again, and her eyes went wide with the sudden realisation of what was about to happen. “No.”

“Last chance,” Bobbi almost sang, not bothering to hide her smugness any longer. Daisy tugged at the ropes, inwardly cursing Bobbi for tricking her into wearing the gloves today. ‘Jemma recommended you should after the excessive use of your powers yesterday’, is what she had said. Unless she was able to get them off in the next thirty seconds, Daisy was toast.

“Bobbi, please don’t!” she pleaded from her suddenly vulnerable position. Bobbi flashed an innocent smile at her. _Touche_. 

“Have fun, kids!” She then turned and waltzed out of the room.

“No! Bobbi! No!” Bobbi ignored her. Daisy jumped slightly as the door slammed behind her. She was left alone with Lincoln.

“Lincoln?” Daisy’s voice was soft and cautious. Lincoln smirked and stepped towards her. Daisy tried to squirm away. “Lincoln, you’re meant to be on my side!”

“She offered me a bite if I could fine out where you hid it,” he confessed, having the grace to look guilty.

“You-you traitor!” Daisy pulled her best ‘betrayed’ face, knowing that Lincoln couldn’t bear to be the cause of her pain. She was proven right when he looked down to avoid her expression.

“Sorry.” He shrugged slightly, and then closed the distance between them.

From outside, Bobbi listened with glee. She could hear Daisy’s squeals and laughter and could envision her squirming and kicking, trying to get away. Good thing she’d tricked her into wearing the gloves. No way she was getting free.

She sipped her water as she waited. It wouldn’t take too long - she knew from experience that tickle torture was one of the more effective ways of extracting information. 

She was proven right, as five minutes later, Lincoln emerged, wearing a victorious smile.

“In a shoebox under her bed.” Bobbi slapped him on the back affirmatively and started to walk off. She’d untie Daisy after she’d eaten the doughnut. 

“Good work. Come on, I owe you a bite.”


	7. Bad Girl Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: BioQuake + "On a scale of one to ten, how illegal do you think this is?"

“Probably about a thirteen,” Daisy murmured, picking the lock. Jemma cast a look over her shoulder, though it was probably futile - this warehouse was right by the train tracks and currently abandoned. 

“Couldn’t we do this another way, Daisy?” Jemma pleaded, unable to get rid of the feeling of guilt from breaking the law. 

“Don’t really have a choice, Jems,” Daisy said, standing up as the lock clicked open. “Currently, you’re my prisoner, so…” 

Jemma sighed. Of _course_  she had to bring that minor detail up. It wasn’t like she minded; she knew Daisy would never hurt her. But the fact that it was the second time in a month that Daisy had pointed a gun at her _was_  slightly unnerving.

“Come on,” Daisy said, tilting her head towards the open door, snapping Jemma out of her thoughts. She sighed again and walked inside. Daisy closed the door behind them, and then proceeded to lead the way up several flights of stairs, grabbing a backpack that she’d stashed there a couple of days ago along the way.

“Come on, Daisy,” Jemma kept trying. “Surely there’s another way to do it! You could, oh I don’t know, wreck his car instead? Or find one of his family members?”

“Can’t. He doesn’t like his car enough for me to use it. And he doesn’t have any living family. You’re my next best option.”

“I’m so flattered that I’m the first one you thought of,” Jemma half-snapped sarcastically. Out of all the bad girl shenanigans, this one my far was probably the _most_  illegal of them all. 

“Glad to.” Damn Daisy and her quick wit. Jemma grumbled to herself as she followed her friend up the last flight of stairs and past a few support pillars to reveal a chair and a camera on a tripod set up in front of it.

“Daisy, no!” Jemma whined. She thought it was just going to be a phone call and some good voice acting. “Why can’t we just use a phone?”

“Jemma!” Daisy groaned, clearly getting a bit annoyed. “What’s gotten into you? You’ve never been this difficult during our other ‘bad girl shenanigans’, as you so _fondly_  call them.”

“Oh, I don’t know!” Jemma snapped, her voice still heavy with sarcasm. “Maybe it’s the fact that you want to tie me up! I don’t like being tied up!”

“Aw, quit your whinging! Not my fault SHIELD upgraded their firewalls.”

“Easy for you to say! _You’re_  not the one getting tied up!” Daisy rolled her eyes.

“Just get in the chair. Please?” She pulled her best puppy eyes and Jemma relented, plopping down in the chair with a huff. 

“Fine! But you owe me. _Big time_.”

“Deal. Now, let’s find out who Mace _really_  is.”


	8. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: BioQuake + "There are lots of ways to say goodbye"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure angst. But it's her own fault for giving me such an angsty prompt.

There were so many ways to say it in English alone. Then there were several ways of saying it in other languages around the world. That was a lot of ways to say goodbye. All of them were sad - not because of the words themselves, but because of their implied meanings.

But perhaps the most heartbreaking way of saying goodbye was not saying it at all.

A tight hug.  A small wave, accompanied by a smile that attempted to be brave. A handing of a small “going away” gift.  A glass raised silently as a toast. A longing and hopeful gaze towards the person walking off.

The silent goodbyes that implied all that words would, but _more_.

Jemma was the only one who hadn’t said anything to her. Coulson had given her a tight hug and told her to be careful. May had nodded at her and told her not to die. Fitz had given her a gift and said goodbye. Mack and given her a bear hug and told her that he’d see her again someday. Elena had also given her a hug and told her that she’d be in touch.

Jemma exited the lab and picked up her bags, walking her out to the helicopter. She’d then put the bags down and turned to face Daisy. Then, without saying a word, she’d slid her hands into her friends and looked at her sadly. She’d then leaned in and given Daisy a kiss on the cheek, then stepped back to let Daisy board the plane. 

She’d stood there as Daisy climbed aboard and then pressed her face against the glass, wishing to see Jemma for as long as she possibly could. The mission she was going on…there was a very high likelihood that she’d not make it back. And if that were the case, one of her friends is what she’d like to be thinking about in her last breath.

As the helicopter rose off the roof, Jemma smiled a little, clearly trying to be brave. But Daisy could see that her heart was breaking as much as hers was. Jemma raised her hand and gave a small wave, and Daisy waved back as Jemma became smaller and smaller and then disappeared altogether as the plane turned. 

Daisy couldn’t quite peel herself away from the window, a heavy sadness weighing her heart down like lead. She blinked back tears as she spoke what could very well be her last words to her friend, even though she couldn’t hear them.

“Goodbye, Jemma.”


	9. Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fitzsimmons + "I bet I can make you scream my name"

“It’s on.”

Jemma and Fitz stood staring at each other as if a Wild Western showdown were about to go down. Fitz’s lips twitched upwards.

“What do I get if I win?” Jemma inquired. Fitz licked his lips in deep thought. Jemma chomped down on her bottom lip. Why did he have to be one of those people who had the ability to be effortlessly hot?

"The loser has to do whatever the other person says for a whole day.” Jemma’s eyebrows shot up.

“The _whole_  day? Wouldn’t that interfere with our work?”

"No! We’re both reasonable adults. We have the ability to control ourselves and only make reasonable demands.” Upon seeing Jemma’s hesitation, Fitz leaned back smugly. “Unless, of course, you’re scared to lose.”

That struck a nerve, and Fitz knew it. He knew that she was the bravest person in perhaps the entire team, and he knew that she knew it. After all, it was _Jemma_ who had survived 4 months on that planet, enduring things the others couldn’t even begin to understand. No, people would have to be absolute fools to call _her_  scared.

"Deal.” Jemma held out her hand, which Fitz shook. And so the bet was in motion.

This was going to be fun.

Over the next few days, the two tried many different ways to make the other scream their name. Everything from _really_  good sex to irritating the heck out each other was used, but the two remained as stubborn as ever. Jemma had even gone so far as to put Fitz’s favourite sandwich next to an incredibly smelly alien substance they were working on. 

He’d nearly snapped. Multiple times. He almost hated Jemma for being stronger and more put together than him; that her temper was much more under control. It sucked that it only made him angrier and more determined to beat her. 

The rest of the team had caught wind, and were enjoying the competition immensely. They’d even found out that Daisy had started a pool, which only fueled their determination. 

In every spare moment he had, Fitz was researching ways to make people scream, but all his attempts were futile. It was increasingly frustrating. Then, one day in early October, he came across a random blog page, talking about how much the writer liked Halloween. He had no idea how he had found it, but he did know that he’d just hit the jackpot. 

Jemma would be screaming his name in no time. He just had to hold out for the 31st. 

As the day rapidly approached, Fitz changed his research time to creating time. He was going to give Jemma the scare of her life. He went out, collecting the spookiest things he could find, and was even able to sweet-talk his way into borrowing some of his friend’s spooky things. Soon, he had a plan set out. He just needed a couple of hours to set it all up. 

Fortunately for him, Jemma was out for most of the afternoon on a mission, and wouldn’t be back until after the sun had set. Perfect. That gave him _plenty_ of time. As he set up, he asked each of his friends not to touch anything as he encountered them. They agreed with smirks and faces full of glee. 

The time soon came, and Fitz grinned sinisterly from his hiding place in the shadows as Jemma boarded the plane, quite clearly tired from her mission. The look of exhaustion on her face was almost enough to make him feel bad for what he was doing. 

Almost. 

He quietly followed her until she reached the bathroom. He then made himself comfortable in a chair outside, waiting to hear his name. He spotted Daisy hiding in the shadows, and he gave her a little wave. She responded by flashing him a toothy grin. 

“Oh, yuck!” Jemma’s voice came from inside and Fitz smirked. His name was definitely going to come next. Sure enough, a second later, he heard his name. Just not how he had expected it.

“Fitz?” Jemma poked her head out and he looked up. She didn’t sound scared at all. “Were you the one who brutally murdered the dummy in the shower and then spread pig’s blood everywhere?”

So one plan didn’t work. No matter; there were plenty more pranks hidden around the Bus. He responded to her question by shrugging a “yes”. 

“Okay.” With that, Jemma disappeared back into the bathroom. That was followed by a thump (removing the dummy) and the sound of water running. Fitz shrugged to himself. It was only a matter of time before she screamed his name. 

After her shower, they walked around together, Fitz being careful not to point out any particular thing, trying to keep Jemma on her toes. But with each prank they encountered, Jemma didn’t seem at all fazed. She’d simply comment on his creativity or how intricate it looked. 

But it wasn’t her praise that made him happy. He wanted her to get scared, which he did achieve in a couple of his pranks when he caught Jemma’s little frightened gasp or slight jump. But she always covered it up quickly with praise. 

They then finally settled down in the lounge with all the others - Coulson, May, Daisy, Mack and Elena. They dug into the spooky Halloween treats that Coulson had picked out and shared scary and funny Halloween stories from their childhood. 

Daisy then started tossing candy corn at Jemma, who swatted them away, scolding her. A few landed on the floor behind the couch, and Jemma got up to retrieve them.

"Daisy! You’ve got to stop being such a child-” She was abruptly cut off my someone or something in the shadows grabbing her and pulling her back. She let out a shriek as she disappeared into the darkness. 

Silence followed.

Fitz was the first on his feet. “JEMMA!” 

He drew his ICER and made his way towards the darkness, ignoring the fact that no one else had moved. He suddenly blinked in fright as the lights came on, revealing Jemma in Robbie’s arms, both of them grinning widely. Fitz gaped. Robbie nodded a hello. Jemma stepped forward, wearing a smug grin.

“I win.”


	10. Zoos In The Time of Hydra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fitzsimmons + zoo

It was just meant to be a simple zoo trip.

They’d packed a bag with picnic lunch and themselves with facts about the different animals to try and one-up each other with their knowledge. They’d packed extra sunscreen, a camera, a change of shoes, bandaids and everything else they could possibly need for a day at the zoo. Nothing could possibly go wrong!

Unless, of course, a bunch of ex-Hydra agents had decided that they, too, wanted to go to the zoo. 

Jemma and Fitz had done a good job at evading them for a while, but they were eventually able to surround them, and they were forced to surrender; for their own safety and the safety of the civilians around them. They’d promptly been taken to an out-of-bounds-to-visitors part of the zoo and tied up back to back. 

The upside of this was that they were still together. Unlike last time. Another plus is that Ward wasn’t around, either. So, torture was slightly less likely. Fantastic.

“Well, this sucks,” Fitz muttered, testing his restraints. They were too tight for him to wriggle out. Jemma hummed in agreement, leaning her head back against Fitz’s head. 

“How long d’ya think it’ll be before they start looking for us?” Fitz wondered aloud after a moment of silence. Jemma closed her eyes, internally kicking herself for not having set up a checking in system in case something like this happened. 

“Not for another five hours, at least,” she said. “We took the whole day off.”

Behind her, she could hear Fitz sigh in frustration, and she knew he was thinking the same thing as her. The two sat in silence, feeling quite discouraged. They were both racking their brains for a way to get out of their sticky situation. 

“Come on!” she heard Fitz groan quietly after about ten minutes had passed. “We’re scientists! We should be able to outsmart them!”

Jemma looked around, searching for something that could be used to cut through the ropes. She squinted as the sun bounced off something in the corner. Glass. Yes, that was perfect.

“Fitz, I can see broken glass in the corner!” She felt him try to turn his head. “I’m blocking your view. Work with me.”

She felt Fitz nod, and together they slowly managed to inch their way over to the corner where the glass was. Jemma stopped and used her foot to grab a couple of pieces of glass and slide the over. With a bit more maneuvering and a couple of cuss words, both Fitz and Jemma soon were carefully cutting through the ropes. 

It took quite a while, but they were able to cut through the ropes and stand up. They took a moment to stretch when they were finally free. 

“Now, how to get out of here?” The entrance to the zone was undoubtedly being guarded. There was glass enclosing and high walls enclosing it on all sides. The glass was too high up for them to start waving, hoping someone would see their hands. The walls were too smooth to climb up. If she were to sit on Fitz’s shoulders to wave, he’d soon tire, but if she thumped on the glass for quicker results, the ex-Hydra agents would surely hear them.

Fitz squinted as he examined the wall. He saw a small flat where the glass met the wall. 

“Jemma, if I hoisted you up, do you think you could get your foot onto that flat up there and hold on?” Jemma looked up, trying to judge the distance between the flat and the top of the glass. She might be just the tiniest bit too short to hold on. 

“I think so.” 

Fitz nodded and crouched down so that she could get on his shoulders and then he struggled to stand up. The first few attempts, he fell backwards, taking Jemma with him. Jemma did her best not to squeal, and for the most part, was able to stay quiet. 

Fitz had just managed to stand with Jemma on his shoulders when one of the captors entered, bearing food. Both froze like a deer in the headlights. A few more agents entered and Fitz backed up a few steps. 

“Not another step!” one of them barked, emerging from the small crowd. He appeared to be the leader of the group, Jemma noted as the others took a step back to let him be in front. Fitz stopped moving, and she could feel his legs shaking. 

“Put ‘er down.”

“Dropping, Jemma,” Fitz said softly and Jemma nodded, bracing herself for the hard landing, which came a second later. A ripple of laughter was heard from their captors at their ungraceful landing.

Both stood up, holding their hands up in surrender. Jemma couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed at them. They’d ruined a perfectly good day at the zoo.

Beside her, she heard Fitz take a breath to start talking, undoubtedly to try an plead with them. 

“Don’t, Fitz,” she said quickly, knowing that whatever he might say could cause more trouble than they were in already. She whispered a silent thank you when he closed his mouth. 

“Smart one there.” One of them remarked, his tone clearly indicating his wishes. Jemma did her best not to grimace, and instead rolled her eyes. The leader held up his finger to the man who’d said that, sending a disapproving glare his way. He shut his trap pretty quickly. The leader then turned back to them, nodding slightly in thought.

“Tommy’s right,” he decided, closing the distance between himself and Jemma. He reached out and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear as he spoke. “And I’ll bet you have a mountain of secrets in that pretty little head of you just waiting to be revealed.”

Jemma tensed, but didn’t retaliate. Retaliating now would not end well. She saw Fitz trying to control himself, too, which she was grateful for. She knew how hard it was for him to see her being threatened; he was protective by nature. 

“You’ll never find out.” Her eyes snapped up to his, full of fire. He smirked.

“Oh, but I will, sweet’art.” With that, he grabbed her and whirled her around, wrapping his arm around her throat. Fitz lunged forward, but was hauled back by the others. Jemma tried to use what little she had learnt in combat to break free, but her efforts were in vain. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him produce a needle and point it towards her neck.

"Night, night,” he murmured and Jemma braced herself for the prick. But it never came. Instead, she felt herself topple backwards and she let out a grunt as she landed. Someone pulled her out of her headlock and push her aside. She blinked a few times as everything suddenly went quiet. She looked over and saw Fitz pulling himself up, and so she looked up to find out who had helped her.

She came face to face with…no. It couldn’t be? Could it?

“Bobbi? Hunter?” Her two friends smiled in greeting.

“You okay?” Bobbi asked, holding out her hand while Hunter helped Fitz up. 

“I, uh, yes, thank you,” Jemma stuttered out, brushing herself up. “But…what are you doing here?”

“Same as you, love,” Hunter said. “Enjoying a nice day at the zoo.”

“But how did you…?” Fitz trailed off, using his arms to gesture the rest of his query.

“We spotted you and thought we might come say hello,” Bobbi explained. “But then we saw these jokers,” she motioned to the unconscious men on the ground, “and had to slip away to grab some weapons to help you.”

Jemma put her hands on her hips. “Are you implying that you _knew_  we’d be kidnapped?”

“It’s happened once before,” Hunter pointed out. Fitzsimmons opened their mouths to protest, but Bobbi cut them off.

“What he _means_  is that Hydra knew your faces from that time, so the likelihood of them kidnapping you was higher. And we didn’t bring any weapons with us, so we had to duck out and grab them.”

“Oh, well, thank you!” Fitz said and Jemma nodded.

“How can we say thanks?” Jemma offered. Bobbi and Hunter exchanged a look and then nodded. 

“How about you buy us lunch?”


	11. Radcliffe's New Carpet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (that I chose myself): "Don't bleed on my floor".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for notinkbutagoldensplash as a little pick-me-up :)

“If I see even one drop of her blood, you’re going to be bleeding all over the floor.”

“But that won’t kill it, May,” Coulson pointed out, running through options in his head of how to save Daisy. Daisy had her arm twisted behind her back and her head pinned against the vampire’s shoulder. She was trying to control her breathing, but the others knew it wasn’t easy when a vampire was threatening to suck all of the blood out of your body.

“Don’t care,” May muttered. She’d been in rehab for 4 months, and was just _itching_  for a good fight.

“May, I’d prefer it if you just staked it!” Radcliffe pleaded from his place behind the kitchen counter. “I really don’t want blood on my floor! The carpet is _brand_  new!”

Jemma and Fitz simultaneously shot him an incredulous look, as if they couldn’t believe that he was more concerned about his carpet than their friend. He shot them an apologetic look. 

“Last chance,” Coulson warned, gripping the stake-shooting gun (an ingenious creation on Fitzsimmons part) a little tighter. The vampire laughed lowly.

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” he snarled. “Oh wait! You’re going to do it anyway. I may as well go out with one more meal.”

He licked his lips, and rested his fangs on Daisy’s exposed neck, eliciting a small whimper from her. From where she was, she couldn’t see any of her friends. The last thing she was going to see was a ceiling. A ceiling. That was so underwhelming. 

Ever since she’d joined SHIELD, she’d envisioned herself going out in a heroic fashion. Not outsmarted by a lousy vampire. It was almost embarrassing, really. It must be even more embarrassing for poor Radcliffe who, despite him being one of the smartest people she knew, had somehow stupidly managed to invite a vampire inside his house. 

If only he’d kept his big inviting mouth shut. Then they wouldn’t be in this mess.

But it wasn’t fair, really, blaming Radcliffe. They’d all somehow missed the fact that it was a vampire, so the fault was as much theirs as it was his. Either way, they should have all been more observant. 

So that’s what Daisy tried. Observing. She couldn’t see much, but she _was_  able to gauge the amount of light in the room. It was oddly dark for the middle of the day. Then she remembered - the blinds. The vampire had closed the blinds last night as he’d chatted with the others. He’d must have found a way to keep them closed all this time.

Now, if she could just find a way to get him to move closer to the window…

From where she was standing, May noticed Daisy struggling with her feet. It was subtle, but she noticed it. She looked up and around and saw the blinds. She inched her way over, ducking behind Coulson so the vampire didn’t pay attention to her. Coulson did a good job in trying to talk the vampire down. If he just kept going for two more seconds, she could pull this off.

“Hey, Radcliffe, your carpets flammable?” May asked, catching everyone’s attention.

"Yes, incredibly. Why?”

“Better grab your fire extinguisher then,” May said, meeting the vampire’s eye. Seeming to know exactly what she was going to do, he bit into Daisy. She let out a loud whimper and then went silent. May opened the blinds. Sunlight poured in. The vampire let out an agonised shriek and dove into the shade. Everyone rushed at once.

May leaped over to the burning creature. Radcliffe ran over with the fire extinguisher. Coulson knelt down next to Daisy. Jemma and Fitz knelt down next to him. They were joined by May shortly afterwards.

“Daisy?” Coulson asked, cupping her head in his hands. She looked pale - too pale. But she was still conscious. That was something.

“Coulson.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and her eyes were slowly closing. 

“No, Daisy, stay with me. Come on.” Coulson gripped her head a little tighter, willing her to stay.

“Blood type.” Coulson looked up at Jemma. “What’s her blood type?” 

“AB positive,” he said. Jemma nodded. 

“Fitz, blood bags.” Fitz passed her the blood, which Jemma immediately started to give to Daisy.

“Wait, don’t you have to check-”

“The bag’s blood type?” Fitz interrupted. “No need. AB positive is a universal recipient.”

“Come on. Let’s get her back to the Bus,” Jemma said, standing up. “Make sure that blood bag stays attached to her arm.”

Coulson scooped Daisy up and carried her out towards the Bus. The others followed, May coming last. Before she left, she cast a glance over at Radcliffe, kneeling sadly next to his burnt and dust-ridden carpet. 

“Little advice, Radcliffe?” He looked up. “Next time, invest in some tiles.”


	12. Lincoln

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by agentcarter45 on fanfiction to write something where Jemma has to "reboot" Daisy like she had to with May, but instead of seeing Coulson, Daisy sees Lincoln.
> 
> Follow-up to "Radcliffe's New Carpet"

 

"Why do you insist I keep killing my friends?"

Jemma was done. No, that was an understatement. She was angry. Radcliffe was supposed to come up with the cures _before_ these sorts of things happened. To be fair, most of the time he didn't know what the problem was until after one of them had gotten hurt, but this time was different: he'd been working on a cure for two weeks now. And with the highest-grade technology available to him, he ought to have found it by now.

"It's the only way to save them, Jemma!"

Radcliffe was also exasperated. It wasn't _his_ fault that rebooting these agents was the only way to save them. _They_ were the ones that kept getting themselves into these situations. It wasn't _his_ fault that there weren't any non-lethal solutions.

"Fine!" Jemma threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. "But, if she doesn't wake up-"

"She will." Radcliffe didn't know if she would or not, but he had to at least pretend he was certain she would. _He'd_ be the one not waking up if he didn't. He nodded and Jemma injected her friend before she could change her mind. She watched as Daisy died in front of her.

* * *

Warm. She felt so warm. But not like feverish warm. More like lying-by-the-pool-in-summer warm. It felt nice.

Daisy wasn't exactly sure where she was. She could be at a beach, or she could be in a hospital somewhere. After all, didn't that vampire thing happen? She tried to reach up and touch her neck, but her arms felt heavy, like they did when she woke up slowly on a Sunday morning. And she felt so warm. She didn't _want_ to move. If she did, she may lose the warm feeling.

But she did squirm slightly when a bug bit bit her in the neck. Those bugs were super pesky. She soon felt a dreariness come over her and she closed her eyes. Yes, this is just what she needed - an afternoon nap.

She closed her eyes and let the sleep take over. It was then that she saw Lincoln. He was wearing that blue shirt he looked oh so sexy in (it was her favourite shirt on him) and he was smiling and waving at her. He seemed to be moving closer and Daisy smiled.

"Hey, Lincoln!" she called, and she saw his smile grow even bigger. He reached her and wrapped her in a tight embrace.

"I've missed you, Daisy. Don't be scared, now. It's gonna be alright. Everything's going to be alright."

Then everything went black.

* * *

 

Daisy sat up, gasping, as if she'd just broken the surface of the water. What happened? Last thing she remembered, Lincoln was holding her. Where was he.

"Lincoln?"

"No, Daisy, shhh," Jemma soothed, grabbing her in a hug. "It's me. Jemma. You're okay. Thank god."

Daisy looked around. She was inside SHIELD. She was surrounded by her friends. Everything suddenly came flooding back. Lincoln's death. The vampire. The warm feeling. It all hit her like a block of concrete. She began to cry.

She felt a pair of arms wrap around her, and she leaned into them, needing a hug.

"I saw him," she whispered in between sobs. "I saw Lincoln. H-He h-h-hugged m-me."

Her hugger said nothing, only held stroked her gently, whispering the occasional hush. It took a while, but she eventually calmed down. But even after she'd finished crying, she didn't want to leave the hug. It felt so nice.

But she had to when two sets of footsteps entered. She swiped at her eyes and sniffled as Coulson and May stopped at the bed she was lying on. Coulson handed her a bottle of water.

"Dying makes you thirsty." Daisy accepted the bottle with a wet laugh. May picked up her other hand and tenderly held it in her own. Daisy met May's gaze, and she knew that May knew instantly.

"You saw him, didn't you?" Daisy nodded, and May squeezed her hand. Daisy appreciated it. Jemma continued rubbing her back, while shooting daggers at Radcliffe who just looked at her like an innocent puppy dog. Daisy took a few sips of water and then put the bottle down. All eyes shot up at Coulson when he spoke again.

"I really do need to get those club t-shirts."


	13. Called It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fitzsimmons + "I know it's 3 in the morning, but I've lost my cat"

Fitz groaned as he was awakened by a knock at his door. He rolled over and squinted at the clock. It said it was three o’clock in the morning. Who in the world could be knocking on his door in the wee hours of the morning? 

“Bloody hell,” he moaned, pushing himself up as the knocking persisted. “Keep your shirt on, I’m coming.”

He swung open the door, muttering a few extra curses to himself. He stopped when he saw who it was - a young, blonde girl. She definitely wasn’t in any of his classes (he’d _know_  if she was; hers was a face not easily forgotten). She looked tired, frazzled and determined all at once. 

“Look, I know it’s 3 in the morning, but I can’t find my cat.”

Interesting. Not even an introduction. Who was this girl? Fitz scratched his head and yawned.

“Fitz. Engineering. Your missing cat is relevant to me, how?”

“Because you’re the best cat hunter around, mate!” Hunter appeared beside her and Fitz dropped his head, whispering another ‘bloody hell’. 

“That was _one_  time, Hunter. And it was a pure accident that I just _happened_  to find it.”

“Don’t listen to him,” he said to the girl, who appeared quite embarrassed by her initial rudeness of not introducing herself. “He’s a genius! He’ll be able to find your cat in a jiffy.”

Fitz groaned and slammed his fist against the door frame. Hunter was a bloody nuisance. He wondered what Bobbi saw in him.

“Shouldn’t you be sweating it up with Bobbi?” The girl raised her eyebrows.

"Wait, you’re Bobbi’s boyfriend?” She sounded amused, like she knew all their dirty little secrets. 

“Ugh, Fitz, why can’t you keep your mouth shut?” Hunter half-snapped, walking away. Fitz glared daggers into his back.

"Well, maybe if you did once in a while, I’d consider it!” Fitz called after him, before turning back to the girl at his door. “Sorry, miss, but I can’t help you find your cat.”

“No, I’m sorry, for bothering you,” she said, looking down at the ground. As if on cue, a white and brown cat scampered up and started rubbing Fitz’s legs. The girl's’ face lit up.

“Xenon!” she exclaimed, scooping the cat up. Fitz raised his eyebrows. She was _definitely_  with Biochem. Only Biochem students would name their pet after an element. She stood up and met his eyes with an apologetic smile. 

“I really am sorry. I hope you can get back to sleep.”

She turned on her heel and started to walk away. Fitz watched her go until he suddenly realised he still didn’t know her name.

“Hey!” he called out. She stopped and turned around. “I didn’t catch your name.”

She smiled, looking quite embarrassed again. She ducked her head for a moment before she looked at him again.

“I’m Jemma Simmons. Biochem.” Fitz allowed himself a small victorious smile.

 _Called it._  


	14. Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fitzsimmons + “You knocked on my door at 1 in the morning, to cuddle?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in season 1

Jemma gasped and shot upright. She panted as her eyes darted around the room. When she saw it was her bunk, she smiled to herself and shook her head. It was just a bad dream, nothing more. She glanced down at her alarm clock.

1:00

Jemma sighed and flopped back down. She knew she wasn’t going to get any more sleep for a while. She stared at the ceiling, wondering what to do. She still felt quite scared (it’d been an _awfully_  bad dream). Oftentimes she could soothe herself by listing all the elements in the periodic table, or reciting some of Shakespeare’s works in her head. But they didn’t work this time. She still felt restless.

She didn’t want to, but Jemma found herself getting up and heading outside her bunk, towards Fitz’s. No matter how she felt, he always made her feel better. 

The Bus was silent when she exited her bunk. But it was to me expected; everyone was asleep. Well, everyone except May who was flying the Bus (although Coulson was due to take over control in about an hour). The silence felt quite nice. Jemma padded over to Fitz’s door and knocked quietly.

“Fitz?” A few seconds later, the door opened and Fitz appeared, looking quite frazzled.

“Jemma? It’s one o’clock in the morning. What’re you doing?”

“I had a bad dream.” His confused gaze softened into one of sympathy and he shuffled back to his bed.

"Come on, then,” he instructed, squeezing himself up against the wall. 

“What?”

“Come on, Jemma. We both know you’re not going to get any sleep on your own. And I don’t want to be up all night because of it. So come on.”

He motioned to the bed. Jemma hesitated before she ducked inside, closing the door behind her. She lay down on the bed, her back to Fitz. It felt odd, really. Fitz was her best friend, and here she was, spooning him. But he had a point, really. She wasn’t going to get any more sleep unless she got a cuddle from him, and based on his tired state, this was the best way to do it.

So she settled in, doing her best to ignore the uncomfortable feeling. A little squeeze on her tummy from Fitz’s hand made her jump.

“It’s okay, Jemma. Just go to sleep.” She nodded and decided to let the nice feeling of being held by Fitz wash over her, almost completely erasing the uncomfortable feeling. She allowed herself a small smile as she began to doze off again.

And so Jemma slept in Fitz’s arms.


	15. Touche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: StaticQuake + “You knocked on my door at 1 in the morning, to cuddle?”

Daisy Johnson had always been a human puppy. She loved to give hugs, and she loved to receive hugs. In fact, she was pretty sure that she’d have very little objections in someone just let her lay on their lap all day and pet her. 

It was sort of like a craving that never went away. Which means she got the urge to hug at the most random, and sometimes, most inconvenient times.

Like one o’clock in the morning, per say. 

Daisy groaned and pulled the pillow over her face. Midnight cuddle cravings were the _worst_. She couldn’t sleep until she’d gotten her cuddle. But it was the middle of the night, and she had no desire to wake anyone. But she knew that the longer she lay there, the more intense the urge would become, and the longer she’d have to cuddle before she could go back to sleep. 

She quickly gave up and exited her bunk, making a beeline for Lincoln’s bunk. The base was relatively quiet, exempt of a few night workers roaming around. A few threw a friendly smile at her and she did her best to smile back. But it was hard in her hug-deprived state.

"Lincoln,” she called, knocking loudly on his door. “Open up.”

She waited a few seconds as he opened the door. He looked both tired, shocked and a little bit shaken up. Perhaps she shouldn’t have knocked so loudly. 

“Daisy, it’s one in the morning,” he grumbled quietly. “Why are you not in bed, asleep, like a normal person?”

“Because I’m not a normal person,” she retorted. “Normal people don’t have powers.”

“Touche. But that still doesn’t answer my question.”

“I need cuddles. And you’re going to give them to me.” She didn’t even wait for an invitation before she lightly pushed past, making herself comfortable on his bed. Lincoln just stared at her.

“Well?” she asked expectantly. “I’m waiting.”

He sighed, closing the door and then shuffling back to his bed. He lay down, motioning for Daisy to do the same.

“I swear you get cuddle cravings at the worst times,” he muttered, pulling her in tight. She rested her head on his chest, letting out a small, contented sigh.

“I know. But if you’re gonna be my boyfriend, you’re just going to have to learn to deal with it.” She looked up at him. “Do you think you can do that?”

“I think I can power through,” he said, letting a burst of electricity buzz through him. Daisy laughed and cringed upon hearing his joke.

“I swear to god, Lincoln, your puns are the worst!” she groaned, although she couldn’t hide the fact that she was amused. Lincoln grinned.

“I know. But if you’re gonna be my girlfriend, you’re going to have to learn to deal with it.”

“Touche.”


	16. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Confessions"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This turned out a lot longer than I expected.

There were several ways to extract a confession from someone. 

Perhaps the most common one was torture. The human body could only withstand a certain amount of pain before it gave way. But that was _hardly_  an acceptable way for a leader to act.

Then there was tickle torture. It could be just as effective as actual torture, if used correctly. _And_  it didn’t leave the inflicted with any scars - physical, emotional or mental. But while Coulson was playful, he wasn’t _that_  playful. Besides he’d learnt his lesson years ago when he’d attempted to use it on May. 

He still had the scar just below his collarbone.

There was also the option to wait until it was late at night, when the assumed guilty had let down their guard. It was even better if you could catch them as they were drifting off to sleep. But Coulson couldn’t wait for night to come.

Then there was the intimidation tactic. If Coulson was honest, he quite enjoyed this method. It didn’t require any pain or embarrassment of any sort. Just a bit of a persona shift. Now, looking at the screens, he smiled a little bit. It’d only be a matter of time before they were ready to talk.

* * *

Daisy sighed and licked her lips, shifting slightly in her seat. The last time she’d been on this side of the table in the Interrogation Room was when Ward and Coulson had nabbed her from her van, years ago. She smiled a little, remembering. 

_Fun times_.

She knew Coulson didn’t treat anyone unfairly. Ever. So she knew that she probably deserved to be on this side of the table. Scratch that, she _definitely_  deserved it. But she was never going to admit that to him. 

No, she knew _exactly_  what game Coulson was playing, and she was going to play it until the end. 

* * *

Jemma took a deep breath to soothe herself. She’d never been on the bad guy’s side of the Interrogation table. It made her feel quite uneasy, which was odd. 

After all, she’d been through _how_  many bad girl shenanigans with Daisy now? And yet she still couldn’t shake the nervous feeling inside of her that she was going to get severely punished, even though technically she hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Snap out of it, Jemma!” she scolded herself. “You’re not that naive young scientist that Coulson picked years ago! You’re strong. You can handle anything.”

The words _did_  calm her a little, and so she thought back to all the other times she’d broken the rules, and especially back to Maveth. Those things had been far worse, and she smiled to herself as she remembered how she’d beaten them.

She could beat this. Piece of cake.

* * *

Fitz knew _exactly_  what Coulson was playing at. It was ingenious, really, using their respect and admiration for him against them. But it was also quite ingenious of him to know what Coulson was doing.

It meant that it wouldn’t work on him. 

He smirked at the knowledge and ducked his head so Coulson (who he _knew_  was watching them) couldn’t see. No good to him if Coulson knew that he knew. 

* * *

It’d been an hour, and Coulson thought they’d stewed long enough; he could see them getting fidgety. He smiled to himself. He was about to find out who stole his muffin. 

* * *

Daisy startled as the door opened and Coulson walked in. She grinned up at him. 

“Hey, AC. What up?” 

He settled down silently into the chair opposite her, sitting in a way that intimidated her slightly. She bit the inside of her cheek and forced herself to hold his gaze. Looking away was the first sign of guilt. 

“So, you gonna tell me where it is?”

“No.” She chomped down on her bottom lip to suppress a smile at his dumbfounded reaction. She knew he’d probably expected her to deny knowing anything about the situation.

Daisy, 1. Coulson, 0.

“Why not?” Coulson leaned back in his chair, turning his hands upwards in question. Daisy bit back a laugh at the Coulson-ness of the comeback. “You out of everyone should know that it’s not pleasant when someone takes your food.”

_Clever, Coulson. Using my love for food against me. But not clever enough._

“Because I don’t know where it is.” She shrugged her shoulders, looking at him innocently. She noticed him tense in annoyance and she swallowed hard to hide her smile.

Daisy, 2. Coulson, 0. 

Coulson sighed and then got up before walking out the door. After the door shut, Daisy broke out into a grin. Coulson had no retorts. She was in control of her interrogation. 

Daisy, 3. Coulson, 0.

* * *

Jemma looked up from where she was doodling on the table with her finger when Coulson walked in. She smiled at him confidently.

“Hello, Coulson!” 

“Hey, Simmons,” he answered, sitting down opposite her. She quietly took a deep breath. “You know why I’ve got you here, don’t you?”

“But of course,” she said. “You’re upset because someone stole your muffin, for which I deeply apologise for. It’s not easy having someone else steal your muffin.”

She shot him a sympathetic glance and placed her hand comfortingly on his arm, almost laughing at his shocked look. 

“Like I was saying, your muffin was stolen, and you somehow suspect me of stealing it, which is why I’m here now.”

“So, did you steal it?” Coulson’s direct question _should_  have caught her off guard, but it didn’t. Perhaps it was all those polygraphs she’d been forced to take when Mace was the director. 

“Do you _really_  think I’d tell you that if I had?” She smirked as Coulson went silent. He had no retort. She knew a thing or two about deflection, thanks to those dumb polygraphs. Her smirk grew into a smile as he got up and left the room. 

Jemma had officially just beaten her first interrogation.

* * *

Fitz was standing up when Coulson entered. He nodded to his boss, who nodded back.

"Sir.” Coulson say down in the interrogator chair.

“Have a seat, Fitz.” Fitz did as he was told. He could just fight back, but that would just make Coulson suspect him more. No, it was much safer (and _much_  more fun) if he played along, so he could crush Coulson.

“So, do you have any knowledge about a situation involving a large chocolate muffin that was stolen?” 

“Of course, sir. You’re outraged rant could be heard from even the basement!” He bit his tongue to fight off his smirk as Coulson gave him an unamused glare.

“Let me re-phrase that. Did you have anything to do with the disappearance of that muffin?”

“’Course not, sir,” Fitz flashed him an innocent smile, “I’d never steal your muffin.”

He sat still as Coulson searched his face, sighed and then got up and left. His fake smile turned to a real one at having been beaten Coulson. He wondered if the others had been able to hold out. 

* * *

Coulson let out a sigh when he reached his office. His three suspects were proving tough to crack. They were full of witty responses, leaving him speechless. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought they actually _expected_  him to suspect them and then pull this stunt.

He shook his head. That wasn’t possible. He’d told no one about who he did and did not suspect, and he’d not told anyone of his plans to interrogate them. It was only a coincidence that they’d all managed to outsmart him. He glanced up at the screens and nodded to himself.

It was time to bring out the big guns.

* * *

Daisy, Jemma and Fitz were pushed down onto the bench next to each other, and they exchanged small smiles as the SHIELD agents who had escorted them stepped back. They were about to start chatting when Coulson stepped forward, and they closed their mouths. 

They maintained eye contact with him. They’d beaten him in their individual interrogations; there was no way in _hell_  they were losing out now. They were thrown when Coulson’s “Top Boss” persona slid away, revealing his Parental persona.

Daisy swallowed. Hard. She knew what was coming. She just prayed she was able to hold out. It probably wouldn’t affect Fitz and Simmons as much, but then again, she wasn’t in their heads, so she didn’t know.

"I’m disappointed in you three. One of you took it, I know that much. I just wish one of you were brave enough to confess to it.” He looked at each of them with an incredibly disappointed glare.

Daisy ducked her head, ashamed. She hated when he was disappointed in her. Fitz clenched his fist discreetly. He hated anyone challenging his, or Jemma’s, bravery. But a quick pinch from Daisy caused him to check in. It was just a ploy from Coulson, to get them to confess. He breathed deeply and looked away.

On the other side of Daisy, Jemma had also looked away, unable to bear the look Coulson was giving them. She respected him, and even though it mattered less now than it used to, she still greatly valued his opinion of her. But she knew well enough that at its core, his words were just a tactic to break them.

“So, which one of you is it?” The three didn’t answer, keeping their heads down. He sighed. “I am _very_  disappointed in all three of you.”

With that, he turned on his heel and left.

* * *

_**23 minutes later…** _

“That had better have been worth it!” Daisy declared, entering May’s bunk with Fitz and Jemma in tow. May looked up with a smirk on her face.

“It is.” She stepped aside to reveal, not just the muffin but a small feast of other snacks. All three of them gaped. 

“But…what?” Jemma stuttered out.

“Gotta find _something_  to do with my free time,” she said, motioning for them to sit down. 

"But how to you manage to get other agents to agree to this?” Fitz asked. “Speaking of which, why aren’t they here?”

"There’s an upside to being feared,” Daisy, Fitz and Jemma chuckled at that, “And they’re not here because they broke under pressure. They don’t deserve any of the spoils.”

“Melinda May, you are the most evil person I have met,” Daisy said with a huge smile on her face. May smiled back as she passed a fork to each of them. They dug into the muffin. 

It was the most delicious muffin they’d ever tasted.


	17. Jemma's Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the Cordelia and Dennis thing in Angel

Jemma sighed and rubbed her eyes, before placing her hands on the sink. Everyone thought so highly of promotions and sugar-coated them as something to be sought after. But what they didn’t tell you is that the workload only got heavier, and the days got longer and harder.

Looking in the mirror, Jemma could see the toll it was taking on her.

She had bags under her eyes, and her cheeks were looking hollower than they had a couple weeks back; she’d been so busy she’d sometimes had to neglect eating. Even Fitz hadn’t had much success in making sure she ate - after all, she only saw him at home.

Well, see was a bit of a stretch, really.

Behind her, Jemma heard the water reaching the top of the tub, so she turned and shut the taps off. The bubbles rose to form little white mountains in her bathtub. She stripped and climbed in, embracing the warmth the water gave her.

Above her, the scrub brush appeared in mid-air and she smiled softly, nodding. The brush moved around to behind her and began to rub against her back gently.

“Oh, Fitz,” she murmured wearily. “What would I do without you?”

While she loved Fitz dearly, most people got freaked out by him. Probably because they couldn’t see him, which Jemma could totally understand. After all, it was natural to be afraid of what couldn’t be seen or predicted. But Jemma wasn’t; she and Fitz had clicked almost instantly. Most likely because it was Jemma who had found justice for him.

But the story behind his death was a long story, one that required a cup of tea and a few gluten free biscuits to explain. What Jemma often just told people who had found out is that Fitz had been a ghost for a little over three months, and that he was a _friendly_ ghost - Jemma could always count on him to take care of things when she was away at work or otherwise. He’d even scared off an intruder!

Jemma suddenly felt a jolt and she looked up with a start. She could see a message on her mirror, written in blood

_Go to bed, Jemma. Get some rest._

“Ugh, Fitz!” Jemma said crossly. “How many times do I have to tell you: use a _marker_ to write on the mirror! Not blood! Where’d you find that blood anyway?”

Honouring her request, a marker appeared and he wrote under the bloody message.

_Sorry. The blood came from the intruder downstairs._

“What did you do to him?” Jemma sighed, closing her eyes momentarily as the marker squeaked across the glass. When she opened her eyes, a new message was written.

_Stabbed him a couple of times with the steak knife._

Jemma sighed again. That was her favourite knife. He had better not have stabbed the intruder on her carpet. If she found stains in the morning she was going to…well, she didn’t know exactly what she was going to do. She’d figure it out when the time came.

She climbed out of the now lukewarm tub, dried off and slipped on her pyjamas. She took a step and stumbled from the sheer exhaustion, but she quickly felt a strong grip around her waist. She managed a weak smile as she and Fitz shuffled to her bedroom.

Fitz helped her into bed, and she felt a few soft strokes on her forehead. She smiled again at him. She could imagine him smiling back at her.

“Thanks, Fitz. Take care of the mess downstairs for me, please? I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

Fitz turned the light off in goodnight to her.


	18. Bobbi and The Brit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "We bumped into each other while stealing the same diamond and almost got caught because we were arguing over which one can have it"
> 
> Crime AU

The job was simple: get in, get the diamond, get out. 

Of course, simple jobs _never_  ended up being simple. There was always _some_  idiot who managed to screw it up and make it complicated. Often, those idiots were titled “the police”.

But this time, the idiot was some British guy.

“I had it first,” the man hissed. Bobbi quirked an eyebrow.

“What are we? Fifth graders? That diamond is rightfully mine.” 

“I don’t see your name on it, love.” 

Okay, yup. _Definitely_  a fifth grader. Bobbi wanted to separate his head from his neck. But she knew that would raise a lot of questions, so she took an alternative route - manipulate his British status.

“You’re British, aren’t you?” he nodded, “well, aren’t Brits supposed to be chivalrous and you know, _not_  take something that’s been rightfully stolen.”

“Oh and I suppose that ‘rightfully’ stealing it is morally better than flat-out stealing it?” His voice was slightly raised. Bobbi glared daggers at him. She hated how he was so witty. 

“It is if you’ve been planning a heist for _five weeks_!” she snapped. Her voice was now slightly raised as well. 

“Tough luck, love,” he said, yanking his arms towards himself in an attempt to snatch the treasure away. But Bobbi held firm. This guy was _really_ getting under her skin. 

“I swear, if you don’t let go, I’ll knock you out!” she growled, pulling at the box that held the diamond. The British man chuckled.

“Promises, promises. Besides, what makes you think that you deserve this more than me? Is it because you’re a yank? A woman? A better thief than I am?”

“Yes.” His eyebrows shot up, and then furrowed as he frowned at her. 

“Easy on the attitude, love!” He was now almost shouting.

“It’s not attitude if I know I’m right!” she retorted. Her voice was as loud as his. 

“Bloody hell!” he shouted. “That’s the problem with you yanks: you’re all arrogant!”

“Oh, and I suppose you Brits are better because you’re not?”

“Damn straight, love.” 

Bobbi barked out a laugh, “Oh, that’s rich!”

The Brit opened his mouth to respond, when they heard footsteps. They shared a fearful look with each other, put the diamond back and ducked under the table to hide. They held their breaths as the footsteps drew closer. 

“I know you’re in here! Come out with your hands up!” 

Bobbi silently cursed the security guard. Why couldn’t he be asleep like a _normal_  security guard. Screw him for being competent.

She glanced over at the Brit beside her and smirked. Silently, she began to slide out from under the table, but on the opposite side to the security guard. As she did, she gave him a nice big shove. He toppled out onto the floor in front of the security guard.

“Freeze! Hands where I can see them!”

Bobbi smirked and silently rolled back to behind the cabinet. She could hear the Brit trying to dob her in, but he was shushed by the security guard. 

“Silence, thief! Your little tricks won’t work on me!” 

She heard the guard pulling him up and cuffing him, and then leading him out of the building. When the door closed, she let out a little giggle and peeked out from her hiding spot. 

The coast was clear. 

Bobbi quietly crept over to the window, peering out just in time to see the man being led away in cuffs. He looked up and Bobbi took the opportunity to give a playful little wave, accompanied by a smug smirk, before ducking away.

As she retrieved the diamond, she could hear the man shouting about her being in there. She didn’t know whether or not the police believed him, but it didn’t matter; she had her diamond and was already heading out. She allowed herself to chuckle.

That should teach him not to mess around with her heists.


	19. How To Use Scarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Bus kids + scarf"

_**1st December** _

Daisy, Jemma and Fitz didn’t always agree on things. But one of the things that they did agree on is that scarves were crappy Christmas presents. 

Daisy and Fitz didn’t like scarves at all. They both thought that they were too bulky and dangerous, being around their necks and all. Jemma didn’t like scarves being given as gifts because most scarves were pieces of garbage. Scarves had to made with particular wool or cotton, or they were too itchy and of poor design. 

Which is why they were plenty annoyed when Fury sent them all scarves for Christmas, with a heartfelt 5 words:

 _Merry Christmas, enjoy the scarves_.

“I’m going to strangle him with this thing,” Daisy muttered, throwing hers down on the couch beside her. Fitz murmured in agreement.

“Or just tie him up with it,” he suggested. “After all, he did save both Jemma and I that time.”

Daisy let out a grunt and Jemma sighed, “Bloody useless.”

The other two murmured in agreement and trudged back to their rooms on the new Bus (that Coulson had somehow manage to convince Fury to give him). The scarves were promptly chucked in the cargo hold on the way back, not be thought of for a long while.

**_30th December_ **

Fitz, Jemma and Daisy held their breath as footsteps moved over their heads. They were hunkered down in the cargo hold, while wannabe terrorists secured the Bus. None of them had any idea how their plane had been infiltrated, and they were scared. 

If these terrorists were as organised as Jemma suspected they were, then they already had the rest of the team. That meant that it was three against at least ten. 

“What do we do?” Jemma asked Daisy, who had gotten up and was quietly fishing around for items that they could possibly use. 

“We take them out, one at a time,” she answered, carefully pushing aside some emergency guns stashed away.

“Wait, why aren’t you getting out the guns?” Fitz whisper-shouted.

“Because we have to take them down quietly. Otherwise it will quickly become ten on three instead of three on one. We’ll use these instead.”

With that, she dumped a pile of wool on the floor and placed some knives delicately on top of it. Jemma touched the wool, wondering why it was just lying around. It took a full fifteen seconds to realise that they were the scarves that Fury had sent them almost a month ago. 

“Hey, do you think the scarves could be useful?” Jemma inquired. Daisy stopped as she placed a couple more silent weapons with the knives. 

“Huh. Maybe.” She furrowed her brow thoughtfully, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, those could be useful. Grab them and some weapons, let’s go.” 

The first one to go down was young and scrawny. He was patrolling the lounge area. Fitz snuck up behind him and looped the scarf around his face, covering his mouth. Meanwhile, Daisy dropped from her hiding place, promptly knocking him out. They took him back to the cargo hold and zip-tied him. Fitz stayed and guarded him while the girls went out to take down the next two. 

The next two were walking down the corridor towards the interrogation room. They rounded the corner and came face to face with Jemma. Jemma smirked and held up a hand, indicating for them to be quiet. Before they could react, Daisy attacked from behind and Jemma lashed out, too. They went down without being able to utter a word. They were dragged back to the cargo hold and zip tied with the scrawny one. Daisy stayed to guard them while Fitzsimmons went out. 

The next five were taken down via the same trick. They laid the scarf out on the floor and hid. When the terrorists bent down to investigate, Fitzsimmons jumped out and attacked, then took them back to hold. When the seventh one had been tied up, the scrawny one blinked awake.

“What happened? Where am I?” His words were slurred, and Jemma and Fitz took a seat. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Daisy greeted, giving him a little kick awake. When he looked around and realised what had happened, his eyes went wide.

“P-P-Please don’t hurt me!” he pleaded. Daisy gave him another little kick.

“Keep your voice down and nobody gets hurt.” She waited until he’d taken a few deep breaths to calm down. Then she commenced her questioning.

“How many of you are there on this plane?” 

“E-Eleven,” he answered shakily, pushing himself against the side of the hold as hard as he could. The others were starting to wake up, too, but unlike the kid, they had the brains to keep their mouths shut. Well, except the most muscular man. 

“Way to blow it, Mathews,” he growled. Daisy shot him a glare.

“Hey! Shut it!” The muscular man glared back.

“Or what?”

“Or I open the hatch and you and your gang get sucked out,” Fitz threatened cooly. Daisy’s eyebrows shot up, and she ducked her head to hide a smile when Jemma joined in.

"You might want to listen to him. Falling out of a plane isn’t a pleasant experience. Trust me.”

The man was smart enough to shut up. Daisy swallowed her smile and turned back to Mathews. 

“So where are the other three?”

“G-Guarding the prisoners in the interrogation room. And one is flying the plane.” Daisy nodded and stood up. She then pulled out her ICER and shot all eight terrorists. Then she motioned for Fitzsimmons to come. 

Daisy and Jemma slipped silently to the interrogation room, while Fitz stood quietly at the table, pulling up the interrogation room cameras. He then fed information into Daisy and Jemma’s coms.

“They’re all seated against the east wall with their hands bound. There are three guards, two of whom have automatic weapons. The third appears to be tormenting Bobbi.”

“What kind of torment are we talking?” Jemma whispered back. 

"You know, uh, the, um, how do you say it? Uh, the mockery. Yeah, that’s the word. He’s mocking her.”

“We have to draw the two that have the automatic weapons out,” Daisy mused.

“Excellent idea,” Jemma agreed. “But how do you suggest we do that?”

“Do you guys still have some of that sleeping gas we used last mission? The blue stuff?”

“The dendrotoxin gas? Yeah, we have a little bit left.”

“Good. That’s what we’re using.” 

* * *

 

Coulson sighed, wondering what was taking Fitzsimmons and Daisy so long. Yes, he understood that these things took time, but he couldn’t help but be a little bit impatient - it wasn’t pleasant being tied up. 

It was then that he noticed the little white pipe being fed into the interrogation via the ventilation system. He gently nudged Bobbi next to him and glanced upwards. Bobbi nodded when she saw it and passed the message onto Hunter, who then passed it onto May, who passed it onto Robbie. 

The five of them held their breath as a blue-coloured gas filtered through the pipe, and watched as their captors dropped to the floor, unconscious. They waited until the interrogation door opened and Jemma, Fitz and Daisy appeared and led them out before they let go of their breath.

“Thanks,” Coulson said, grinning. 

“Where are all the terrorists?” Bobbi asked, looking around as she entered the lounge area. 

“In the cargo hold,” Jemma answered. “Except for the one flying the plane.”

“I’ve got it,” May said, marching off to take back her plane. The rest of them took the last three terrorists down to the cargo hold. Hunter bound the last three with the rest, and the one that had been flying the plane soon joined the group. 

Coulson sighed happily, stretched and grinned at Fitz, Jemma and Daisy. 

“Good work, guys.” 


	20. Doodle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fitzsimmons + "Can you stop playing connect the dots with my freckles?"

Jemma squirmed as the pen was gently dragged across her cheek. It both tickled and hurt a little bit at the same time. It was one of the weirdest sensations she’d ever felt.

“Simmons!” Fitz half-whined, half-laughed. “Stop squirming!”

“I will as soon as you stop playing Connect-The-Dots with my freckles!” she laughed back. “It tickles. And hurts a bit. It’s super weird.”

“Just…hold still. I’m almost done…”

“Man, I wish _I_  had freckles,” Daisy mused from her seat. “Nobody’s ever loved me enough to draw on my face.”

“I could do that!” Lincoln offered enthusiastically from beside her, grabbing a pen. “Mom always said I was really good at drawing.”

“Let’s do it!” Daisy wasted no time in laying down on his lap to let Lincoln doodle all over her face. 

“Daisy, no!” Jemma warned, squealing when the pen slid over a particularly sensitive part of her face. “How could you willingly put yourself through such a thing?”

“Because it’s an adorable couples thing to do!” Daisy said, letting out a giggle as Lincoln began to gently draw on her face.  “Hehe, Jemma’s right, that _does_  kinda tickle and hurt at the same time. I like it.”

The four of them lazed around, chatting as the boys kept sketching things on the girls’ faces. They kept it up until May and Coulson walked in.

“What’s going on?” May asked. All of them answered at once.

“Playing connect the dots.”

“Doodling.”

“Going through a very unusual form of torture.”

“Letting Lincoln draw on my face.”

May shook her head with a slight smile, and Coulson laughed. May kept walking, until Coulson’s hand around her wrist stopped her. She turned around and saw Coulson grinning at her with a pen in his hand. The others were laughing and throwing out a few encouraging comments for them to join in.

May just rolled her eyes and pulled her wrist free. She then snatched the pen from Coulson, with a playful smile slowly breaking up onto her face.

“Sit.”


	21. Dead Or Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bioquake + pudding

Daisy sighed and sunk down in the booth by herself. It’d been a long day fighting the Watchdogs, and she was tired and hungry. She skimmed the menu, unsure of what to get. She didn’t have much money at the current moment, so her options were limited.

A few moments later, a waitress passed by and placed something down on the table. Daisy looked up from her menu to see the most appetising pudding sitting in front of her. It was chocolate, drizzled with a chocolate sauce and lathered with cream with two ice cream scoops on the side.

She licked her lips and looked up at the waitress, “Thanks, but, uh, I didn’t order this.”

“I know, she did.” The waitress stepped aside and pointed at someone sitting at another table by herself. It was Jemma. Daisy blinked, surprised to see her.

Jemma smiled and offered a little wave. Daisy was too stunned to respond, and didn’t even notice the waitress had moved on until she looked back for her. She then looked back to Jemma, and then to her pudding. 

It was a nice gesture, but didn’t really want to be speaking to anyone. So she decided to just ignore the scientist and dig in.

Only problem is that Jemma Simmons wasn’t one to give up so easily. But neither was Daisy. She ignored Jemma when she sat down opposite Daisy. She ignored Jemma when she tried to start a conversation. She ignored Jemma when she gave Daisy a few solid kicks.

She only stopped ignoring Jemma when her pudding was whisked out from under her. She looked up, annoyed.

“You’re not getting it back until you listen to me,” Jemma deadpanned. Daisy relented, putting her spoon down with a little more force than necessary. Jemma took that as her cue to continue.

“Mace is working with the Watchdogs. I found out today. All of us are under orders to bring you in dead or alive.”

Daisy stared at her incredulously, “Way to say ‘hi Daisy I missed you let’s eat pudding together’.”

“Look, I don’t have much time,” Jemma snapped, before lowering her voice. “You need to lay low. Get away.” She looked directly into her friend’s eyes. “I don’t want to lose you.” 

Daisy nodded, her annoyance melting away. Just like her ice cream was.

“Thanks. I can do that sooner if you let me finish my pudding.”

Jemma nodded, smiling slightly, and stood up, “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Not if I see you first,” Daisy smiled a bittersweet smile up at her friend and watched as she departed. She sighed and then dug back into her pudding. Would there ever come a day when someone _didn’t_  want her dead?

The screeching of tyres outside indicated the scenario was highly unlikely. She put her spoon down and quickly slipped out the back way. She bent down and then used her powers to launch herself up in the air, just as SHIELD operatives burst out the back. 

_Would they ever catch her?_ Daisy wondered as she landed on the roof. Maybe someday, was the answer she came up with.

But today was not that day.


	22. Fitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fitzsimmons + 'We keep accidentally running into each other I’m not a stalker I swear'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning:** Sexual assault and rape implied and mentioned throughout

She first saw him on the train on the way to the academy after having been home for the holidays.

Usually, Jemma didn’t pay attention to men on the train, much less remember them. Perhaps it was it rather rare rugged boyish look. Or maybe it was his almost perfectly symmetrical face. It could have been his piercing blue eyes. Or it could even have been the forest of untamed curls atop his head. 

But whatever it was, Jemma remembered his face when she saw him again at the bakery around noontime.

At first, she couldn’t remember where she’d seen him before. But when he looked at her with those eyes, she remembered that she’s seen him on the train that morning. She offered him a small smile, and she got one in return, along with a small wave. She didn’t think much of it at the time – after all, twice was only a coincidence.

It was the third time she saw him that she started to get nervous. It was in the library at the academy. She was searching for a book on thermodynamics, thinking she ought to brush up on the concepts (after all, the last time she’d thought about them was when she was at a science camp when she was fourteen).

She looked over to the end of the row to stretch her neck a bit, and she startled when she saw him again, just staring at her. She glanced the other way to check if anyone else was in her row, but there was no one. It was just him and her. She looked back just in time to see him tilt his head, curiously.

Jemma stood there a moment, wondering if she should ignore him and find her book, or if she should just walk away. There were other people in the library, surely, she’d be safe. But it wasn’t guaranteed. She licked her lips and decided to leave.

She stepped back and hurried away from him. She cast one last glance over her shoulder as she pushed open the door. He was still staring at her, rooted in his spot. She then turned her back and headed for the common room. She’d be safe there.

* * *

 

The next time she saw him, she was prepared. She had with her a bottle of pepper spray, and the pocket knife her father had given her when she was eleven. Before today, she’d ever only used her knife for science experiments, not ever once thinking that she might have to use it for defence one day.

She was in the lab, working on one of her experiments when the door clicked shut. Jemma looked up and froze when she saw him. There was no one else in the lab except her when he entered. He looked at her with that same intense stare that he’d given her in the library, making her incredibly nervous.

No, nervous wasn’t quite the right word. Nervous is what she’d felt back in the library. She now felt scared, just on the brink of fear.

She debated whether she should stay and finish, or whether she should abandon her project for now and try again later. It would be safer to go with the latter, but she really did need to finish her project.

She risked a glance down at her bag, in which her spray and knife were stored. She’d never been in a proper fight before, but she did know the areas in which to stab to be most effective. She’d be fine…hopefully. She turned back to her experiment, but kept a sharp ear out for his footsteps.

The footsteps stopped on the bench one space diagonal of hers. She forced herself not to look up; to not pay him any attention. It seemed that the action was reciprocated; she didn’t feel his gaze on her at all. Well, until she was just finishing up.

Jemma still refused to look at him. That is, until she couldn’t bear the intensity of his gaze and so she whirled around and glared at him.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she snapped. She reached behind her, a shot of adrenalin rushing through her blood as she felt the soft leather of her bag. Only, the boy didn’t look at her when she spoke. He was looking into the corner of the room. Jemma followed her gaze and gasped softly when she saw whose figure was hidden in the shadows.

“Joshua?” At the sound of his name, Joshua Flynn stepped out of the darkness, like a scene from a movie. He smiled charismatically at her, and Jemma wrapped her hand tightly around her spray, ready to pull it out if necessary.

“Hey, Jemma. It’s been a while.”

“I wonder why,” she spat, taking a step back as he took a step forward. The other boy remained rooted in his spot, eyes trained on Joshua. Joshua dropped his head and then looked up at her meekly – no, wait, that was only a replica of the emotion, Jemma reminded herself.

“Jemma, please. You have to understand. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Tell that to the three others you _did_ hurt.” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word. She found herself terrifyingly rooted in her place from both absolute fury and paralysing fear. Joshua looked at her sadly.

“I defended myself with reasonable force,” he answered softly, slowly closing the distance. The other boy still hadn’t moved.

“You call _murder_ ‘reasonable force’?” Jemma could barely get the words out. She was finding it difficult to breathe. Her mind told her to run, but her feet refused to move. She gasped for air as quietly as she could, not wanting to alert Joshua to her fear, though it was probably clearly evident.

“ _Manslaughter_ , Jemma,” he corrected with a soft smile. “That’s what the court ruled it.”

Jemma was at a loss for words. Just because the judge _said_ it was something, didn’t mean it _was_. Joshua was only feet away from her. She closed her eyes, using as much willpower she could to try to convince her muscles to move. But her systems failed her.

“No.”

Her eyes popped open at the sudden word. It was barely audible, but it seemed to echo deafeningly off the walls of the silent lab. Standing before her with his back to her was the other boy in the lab. Joshua stopped in his tracks and raised his eyebrows at the scrawny boy before him.

“No?”

“No,” the boy repeated. It was louder than last time, firmer. “I’m _not_ going to let you touch her.”

Joshua laughed at the lad. “Idiot. You really have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“I-I know _exactly_ who you are, Joshua Eustace Flynn,” he said forcefully. “I know everything there is to know. I know about Kayla.”

“ _Don’t_ you dare mention Kayla,” Joshua growled, jabbing his finger in the kid’s chest.

“Or what?” The boy sounded just as aggressive as Joshua did. But Jemma could hear the terror in his voice and in his rapidly shaking hand by his side. “You’ll beat me up and then rape and kill her? And what’s _that_ going to prove? That you’re three times bigger than us?”

Joshua glared at the kid in front of him. Jemma could see that he was at a loss of words. After a long moment, Joshua turned and skulked from the lab, and she let out a breath that she didn’t know she’s been holding.

“Thank you,” she sighed after the door closed. The boy turned to face her, his chest heaving and a shy smile on his face.

“A-Are you okay?”

“Thanks to you.” She smiled at him and he looked down.

“I, uh, I’m sorry if all my following around had you nervous,” he apologised. “I wasn’t following _you_ around, I was-”

“Following Joshua around,” she finished for him. He looked up and nodded. “And it’s alright.”

“No, it’s not, really,” he countered, taking a step backwards. “I, um, it’s not right that I made you scared like that.”

“But you just saved my life,” Jemma pointed out. “That’s got to count for something.”

She stepped forward and placed a gentle, tentative hand on his shoulder. He looked back at her cautiously, but didn’t make any move to step away.

“Really?” Jemma nodded, and a small smile returned to his face. He pulled out of her touch, looking around and down; everywhere but her face. “I, um, have never actually, uh, stood up like that before.”

“Really?” It was his turn to nod. “Well, thank you.”

“It’s alright.” He finally looked back at her. “I, uh, what’s your name? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Of course not. I’m Jemma Simmons. Biochem.” She held out her hand for him to shake, which he did so after a few seconds of staring at her hand.

“I, um, I’m Fitz. I-I’m Engineering.”

“Nice to meet you, Fitz.”

He started to tinge red and pulled his hand quickly away as if it had been burnt. Instead, he used his hand to rub the back of his neck. Jemma didn’t know why, but she immediately pegged it as a nervous tick. They both stood there for a long moment before Fitz spoke again.

“I, um, do you, uh, want me to walk you back to your dorm?” His offer took Jemma by surprise, but she quickly recovered and instead nodded.

“I think that would make me feel a bit better, yes,” she accepted in a soft tone, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “If it’s not too much trouble?”

“No, no, no trouble,” Fitz said hurriedly. Jemma smiled gratefully, quickly packing up her things. She was definitely not going to get any more work done tonight.

Fitz then very kindly walked her back to her dorm. The two got talking, telling each other a bit about themselves. Then it got onto the topic of what had just happened, and the question tumbled from Jemma’s mouth before she could stop it.

“How much do you really know about Joshua?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fitz curl his fists into balls, but to his credit, he controlled his temper.

“Enough,” he said shortly, before changing the subject. Jemma knew well enough not to press it. Instead, she listened to how he was diagnosed with autism as a seven-year-old boy, and how his dad had tried to come back after that, but his mum wouldn’t let him.

If Jemma was honest, they reached the girl’s dorms sooner than she would have liked. Walking and talking with Fitz had made her feel nice; made her feel, well, safe. She turned and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you again, Fitz. Goodnight.” With that, she leaned in and pressed a small kiss against his cheek. She then hurried off, not really wanting to see his reaction. But just as she reached the door, she heard Fitz call out to her one last time.

“Goodnight, Jemma.”


	23. Princess Daisy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bioquake + "I’m the royal adviser but I might as well be a royal babysitter because holy heck you are such a handful… Wake up ALREADY!"

“Princess? Daisy? Where are you?”

Jemma scurried around the castle in search of the nine-year-old girl. She was supposed to be in a meeting with the Ambassador of Lithuania as per request of the king (”She’s old enough to learn how to bureaucratic”, he’d said) before he sent her off to find the child. But Daisy was as stubborn as her father and had turned it into a giant game of hide and seek.

And now Jemma couldn’t find her.

She stopped and hunched over to catch her breath. She’d quite literally run all over the castle looking for Daisy, but she was nowhere to be found. She tilted her chin up and stared at the ceiling. 

_Come on, Jemma. If you were Daisy, where would you hide?_

_Well, I’d not hide. I’d keep running, not staying in one hiding place for more than a few minutes at a time,_ she answered herself a few seconds later. Jemma hung her head. She was never going to find Daisy. The king was going to flip his lid. 

Still, Jemma knew she couldn’t give up. So, drawing in a deep breath, she continued on with her search. She’d have to find a way to outsmart Daisy, but ideas were coming slow. 

She sighed in frustration and kicked the wall on her right as hard as she could, and then immediately winced. That was a really bad idea, she quickly concluded. Then she stormed off, feeling angry at both Daisy, for exhausting her like this and at herself for being unable to find Daisy.

As if the gods could hear her inner feelings, she spotted the princess as she rounded the corner. She was lying on the ground, unmoving. 

Jemma’s initial anger subsided and was replaced with worry. Was Daisy hurt? Was she dead? Haad she tripped? Had a clay pot fallen on her head? Jemma rushed over to Daisy, and knelt down beside her, instinctively checking for a pulse, just like her father had taught her. 

Daisy’s pulse was slow and steady. Jemma looked down towards the princess’ abdomen and saw her chest rising and falling as she breathed. There were no obvious signs of injury, relieving Jemma. Although it did worry her even more at the same time, for there could be internal injuries which would be worse. 

“Daisy?”

“Mmm,” Daisy groaned. “Five more minutes…”

Jemma bit back on the sudden surge of anger. She was relieved that the princess was alright, but again angry that she had fallen asleep when she had things to do, not to mention that she was _on the floor_.

“Get up,” Jemma ordered. Daisy shot upright at Jemma’s voice. It was her no-nonsense voice, and she knew Daisy had learnt long ago not to mess with her no-nonsense voice. 

“Jemma! Hi!” she greeted with her cutest smile. Jemma shook her head, indicating that she was not having it. Instead, she grabbed the princess’ hand, hauling her up perhaps a little bit more roughly than necessary, before leading her back towards the library.

“You, young lady, are meant to be in a meeting with your father and the Ambassador of Lithuania,” Jemma scolded as she marched Daisy down the hall. “Not to mention that you were sleeping on the floor! On the floor like a peasant! At least find a bed or chair to have a nap on if you’re tired! Not to mention running amuck like a true rascal! That’s no way for a proper young princess to behave!”

Even though Jemma could feel Daisy trying to pull herself free while trying to keep up, the princess didn’t utter a word. Jemma was thankful for that; she didn’t think she could keep her temper in check if Daisy started spewing out excuses. 

They quickly arrived at the library. Before they entered, Jemma stopped and bent down and brushed off Daisy’s dress and smoothed her hair. Then she composed herself, put her hands gently yet firmly on Daisy’s shoulders and guided her in.

“Ah, there is the princess!” the Ambassador exclaimed in delight when Daisy entered.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Daisy,” King Phillip greeted with a smile, although both Jemma and Daisy knew that tone well enough to know that he was furious at them for being so late. Jemma offered him an apologetic look and gave Daisy a small push, and then took her place quietly in the corner. 

Jemma gave her advice as needed during the meeting, but other than that remained silent. Once the meeting was over, the king, princess and ambassador shook hands. After the ambassador had left, the king’s demeanour changed almost instantly.

“What is the meaning of you two coming in so late?” Both girls remained silent, and Jemma kept her gaze on the floor. “Simmons. Answer me.”

“I had a hard time finding the princess, sir,” she answered immediately, although still didn’t look up.

“Daisy, did you give Jemma a hard time?” he asked his daughter.

“No,” she said, although her guilty tone made it clear that it was a lie.

“Daisy,” the king warned. Jemma heard Daisy sigh.

“Maybe.”

The king sighed, also, but in annoyance rather than defeat. “Daisy, Jemma is our royal advisor, not your babysitter. But if you keep up this behaviour she will be.”

Jemma’s head shot up in alarm. Why would he threaten his daughter with that when it would be far more punishing to her than to the princess? 

“Sir?” Jemma asked at the same time that Daisy let out a loud whine.

“But I’m not a baby!”

“Then stop acting like one!” King Phillip snapped and then addressed Jemma, “I know it’s not what you want, but you would have my full permission to discipline her how you see fit, and I’ll give you a raise.”

Jemma’s eyebrows rose as far as her muscles would allow. That was quite the offer.

She glanced over at Daisy, whose eyes were wide with fear. Jemma knew perhaps a little too well that Daisy was plenty scared of her when she was mad, and by allowing the king to give her the job, Daisy may as well be signing her own death warrant.

“Dad, no!” Daisy begged, folding her hands in front of her. The king gave her a look and she sighed in defeat again, and dropped her head.

“’M sorry that I was bein’ so difficult,” she apologised to Jemma. Jemma nodded, and so did the king.

“Aright, Daisy. To your room until dinner.” Daisy obeyed immediately, scurrying out and heading to her bedroom. Once the princess was gone Jemma let out a long breath.

“Sorry,” King Phillip said with a somewhat abashed smile. “I know how much you despise the role of babysitter. And I know how difficult my daughter can be.”

“She’s just like her father,” Jemma joked back, turning the king’s smile into an amused one.

“I can’t disagree. Now, come on, you have some advising to do. Namely on the curtains in the throne room.”


	24. Surprise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a prompt. Based on something my friends did for me last year in Term 3. They really should have known better than to blindofld me

Daisy Johnson was born on July 2nd. This date had passed by during the holidays. She’d gone out for lunch with her mother at an Indonesian restaurant, and then they’d spent some time browsing the shops nearby.

She’d not met up with any of her friends, but she wasn’t fussed. After all, it was only birthday #17 - not a particularly significant one. So she wasn’t surprised or upset when none of her friends got her anything.

As of the present moment, Daisy and her friends are sitting in the hallway that leads from the space outside the library through to the canteen, and also serves as the year nine’s locker bay. Specifically, they are in a little space just outside one of the science labs. The space measures about 100 inches long, and 25 inches deep. It is their little hidey-hole, hang out spot.

Fitz has taken the corner, with Jemma sitting next to him along the short part of the wall. Her legs are stretched out across Elena, Bobbi and Daisy, who are seated in that order along the longer stretch of wall. Hunter and Mack have curled around and are facing Fitz and Jemma to create a similar shape to their little nest.

These seven friends are sitting and chatting with each other about anything and everything, and are laughing their heads off. They’re talking really loudly, but no one cares. They’re year elevens; none of the younger students would dare mess with them, and the teachers don’t mind as long as they’re not this rowdy in class.

Hunter has just made a joke about Australians, when Daisy announces that she needs to pee and get a drink. Bobbi offers to come with her and so they leave to do so.

“Man, that was a good drink!” Daisy declares, striding ahead of her friend.

“It was literally three sips of water,” Bobbi points out and Daisy shrugs.

“Still amazing.” Bobbi laughs, and then stops Daisy as she walked past the entrance of the hall to loop around the outside to the canteen. “Hey, let’s go back in this way.”

“Okay.” Daisy shrugs, turning on her heel and heading back into the hall. Bobbi follows, and Daisy has barely entered before she’s almost bowled over by Elena.

“Put this on!” she instructs, holding out a scarf. Alarm bells go off in Daisy’s head. She’s seen enough spy and action movies and television shows to know that being blindfolded equals bad news. She narrows her eyes.

“What?”

“Put it on!” Elena repeats, bouncing on her toes excitedly. “Por favor?”

Daisy is still hesitant. Is this it? Have her friends finally lost their marbles and decided to kidnap her? Whisk her away from her family forever? Will she ever be able to watch TV again? What about Star Wars? Is this how her life ends?

“Come on, Daisy!” Elena persists. “Do you trust us?”

Slowly, Daisy nods. If she’s honest, she’s probably the reason her friends had lost their marbles - she was the craziest of them all. If anything, _she_ should be asking _them_ if they trusted her.

“Just put it on then,” Elena says. “Trust us. It’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, and with her heart beating a hundred miles a minute, Daisy lets Bobbi and Elena secure the scarf around her eyes and lead her up the hallway. She tries to keep her breathing steady, not wanting them to think she’s crazier than they already know she is.

After all, what’s crazier than a friend accusing you of abduction? Daisy can’t think of anything.

Bobbi and Elena slow her down less than a minute later, and let go of her.

“You can take it off now,” Elena says. Daisy does so, ready to fight her friends. But that’s not what she finds when she removes her blindfold. What she sees before is a nice, big chocolate cake, and her friends beginning a tune of “Happy Birthday”.

She’s speechless to say the least. Her birthday has been so often forgotten that she’s grown kind of used to not having the same birthday attention everyone got. To see that her friends had gone out of their way to organise this surprise made her want to cry.

She sits down with her back facing the walkway as the cheers for her resound.

“You guys! You didn’t have to do this!” Daisy says while accepting a huge piece of chocolate cake.

“Too bad, love, we did,” Hunter says, also helping himself to a nice big piece. Daisy smiles and rolls her eyes, biting into the cake.

It’s a delicious cake and the group barely finish it before the bell goes. They all head off to their next class with chocolaty fingers and faces.


	25. Sticky Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “You forgot to remove your snarky sticky note comments in this textbook and since I got kicked out of the library for laughing too loudly, I’m going to reply to each and every one” AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [BookedbyFandoms](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BookedbyFandoms/pseuds/BookedbyFandoms)
> 
> High school AU
> 
>  **Content warnings:** Mentions of bullying

Why Daisy signed up for Psychology, she had no idea. What baffled her even further is _why_  she procrastinated on the reading she was supposed to do. So now, she had to sacrifice her lunchtimes to catch up on said reading.

She opened to Chapter 6, on Classical Conditioning and began to read, head in hand. It didn’t take her long to read the overview and so she quickly turned the page where a bright green sticky note caught her attention.

She glanced down at it where it was stuck next to the picture describing Pavlov’s research. It read: “Dogs don’t have orange saliva. Their saliva is made up of porphyrins, which stain light fur pink, red, or brown. Idiots.”

Daisy snorted, squeezing her lips shut to keep from laughing. There were no other stick notes on the page, much to her disappointment, so she kept reading, hoping that another one would appear.

Her wish was granted two pages later with a picture of a middle aged white man in a business suit talking on his phone on the street. The note read: “PRIVILEGE (aka HUGO) stares longingly into the distance, wistfully wishing for the girl he could never have because he was a prick. His colleague on the phone is as unsympathetic as the girl of his dreams.”

Daisy covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hide her giggles. She didn’t bother continuing to read up on classical conditioning, and instead flipped over the page in search of more sticky notes.

She was not disappointed. On the next page, there was a black and white picture of another man who looked so incredibly done. The sticky note next to it read: “JOHN B WATSON is so incredibly done with HUGO, for HUGO does not understand his privilege. WATSON looks at HUGO, ready to sit him down and give him the Privilege Talk.”

Daisy laughed softly, turning over a couple more pages. The next note was placed above a picture of a dog reaching for a treat and the note said: “THE DOG CANNOT JUMP THAT HIGH STOP TAUNTING THE POOR FELLOW”

Daisy let out a loud laugh and was quickly called out by the grouchy librarian.

“Miss Johnson, do you have something you’d like to share with everyone?”

Daisy’s head shot up. Everyone was looking at her and she looked down again, embarrassed.

“No, ma’am.”

“Then I suggest you either be quiet, or borrow the book and leave.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Quietly, Daisy got up, went over to the librarian and borrowed it before hurrying outside. Once outside, she breathed a sigh of relief. She _really_  did not like that Ms Peterson. 

She opened it up to where she’d seen the last sticky note and smiled to herself, still not over her soul being crushed by the Peterson. She stared at it, an idea forming in her head, and when it clicked together like the pieces in a puzzle, she smiled to herself.

She was going to reply to every single one of those damn notes.

**_A few months later..._ **

Jemma Simmons scurried into the library, head tucked to her chest, eyes on the floor. She hated bullies. Hated them. They’d destroyed a perfectly good eighty dollar textbook and to say that Jemma was both angry and humiliated would be quite accurate. 

She tucked herself away in the corner of the library and finally let a few tears slip down her cheeks. She prided herself on being a diligent, hardworking and punctual student, whose books were always in order exempt of the spine being worn from being open so much.

And now her book of her third favourite subject was ruined beyond repair. She was devastated. Yes, she knew the library had extra copies, which is why she was here. But she considered her books almost as her children. 

“Get it together, Jemma,” she scolded herself quietly. “They’re just textbooks!”

But this only made her want to cry more. She hugged her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arm. She didn’t know how long she stayed there, but the next thing she knew a soft hand was placed on her knee.

“Go away, Fitz,” she sighed, not looking up. She knew her voice was muffled, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want Fitz to see her like this.

“No.”

She looked up. “Fitz-”

“No, Jemma, I’m not going away,” he said again. “I’m not letting my best friend be upset all by herself.”

He smiled softly and Jemma instinctively curled into his arms, which in turn, were wrapped around her.

“That’s the second time they’ve destroyed my Psychology textbook, Fitz,” she sighed softly. Fitz rubbed her arms. 

“That wasn’t very nice of them.” The comment drew a small smile from Jemma and she pulled back, swiping at her eyes. “Come on. Let’s get one from here.”

He helped her up, and together, they chose one off the shelf and brought it up to borrow it. Ms Peterson didn’t say anything to them while they did. 

Once outside, Jemma opened it and it opened to the page where she’d once stuck a green sticky note complaining about the inaccuracy of the dog’s saliva. She smiled at the memory, but the smile faltered when she saw a blue sticky note underneath it.

“Well, genius,” it read, “Orange _is_  only a few shades off from brown and red, so it’s really not that inaccurate.”

Jemma let out a very unladylike snort, causing Fitz to look over, read it and then laugh.

“They do have a good point, Jemma.” He yelped as she playfully hit his arm. She flipped a few pages over, and found some more blue stick notes next to her green ones. The one next to the Hugo Note read: “HUGO is sad because he got dumped by his girlfriend at seventeen because he was turned on by her perfume, rather than her personality.”

Jemma let out a loud laugh and turned the page again. Next to the Watson Comment, the blue note said: “HUGO squirms uncomfortably in his chair. He does not want the Privilege Talk from WATSON. Then again, no privileged people do.”

Fitz chortled at that, and Jemma could barely breathe through her laughter. She flipped over two more pages. The blue note next to the green one above the dog picture said: “DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF DOG!!!!”

Jemma nearly toppled over, and Fitz had to hold her upright. 

“Fitz,” she wheezed out between laughs. “I-I can’t breathe!”

Fitz laughed, too. Jemma had tears in her eyes again, but this time it was from laughter. The two laughed for a little while before they got control of it. Then Jemma swiped at her eyes again and stood upright, before marching off.

“Jemma! Where are you going?”

“To find the person who wrote the blue sticky notes!”


	26. Hope For Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: FS + "meeting on a train AU"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoever says I can't take this and turn it into a Narnia AU: fight me

Jemma and Hunter sat down in unison in the front carriage. Jemma let out a long, sad sigh and Lance immediately stopped babbling on about his day and turned to her.

“Jems? What’s wrong?” He placed a soft hand on her knee and she slid her hand over the top of his. She looked down, pressing her other hand over her mouth in an attempt to keep from crying. Lance squeezed her hand in understanding.

“I miss it too,” he said softly, and maneuvered in his seat so that he could properly hug her. Jemma hugged back, clinging on as if she believed if she held tight enough, they’d get back. 

“Today was hard,” she sighed, pulling away once she’d gained control of her tears. Lane nodded in understanding. 

“We’ll go back someday,” he assured her quietly. “We just gotta wait, yeah?”

“It’s hard to wait,” she said, looking down again. 

“I know.” 

The two sat in silence for a few minutes. The train stopped at the next station and more students got on. One boy shuffled past and Jemma glanced up at him. He had brown curls and blue eyes. Nothing spectacular. 

But she did feel instantly drawn to his quiet spirit that she felt radiate from him. She tried not to hope; she’d felt this same gentleness before, but she dared not believe. What if she was wrong? She forced herself not to look, fearing what she might not find if she looked.

“Is this seat taken?” the boy asked. Jemma shook her head and Lance gestured for him to sit down. “Thanks.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Jemma then saw the boy tilt his head. “I, um, hate to be intrusive, but is everything alright? You look upset.”

“I’m just homesick,” Jemma explained shortly, trying to ignore the tug in her heart to look at him.

“Me too,” he said softly. Jemma gave in and looked at him. His blue eyes were far prettier than she’d originally thought. They were a deep and clear blue, like the skies back home. Even the passion seen in the skies was there; there was a familiar fire in his eyes and Jemma’s heart tentatively teetered on the edge, ready to take flight.

“You’ve been there, too?” Jemma couldn’t stop herself from asking, but she had to know. He nodded, smiling.

“Three months ago.”

Jemma’s heart soared and she broke out into a slow smile. Before she could stop herself, she launched herself into his arms and hugged him, laughing. He caught her with an ‘oof’, but Lance would later tell Jemma that he could have sworn he saw the boy laugh.

“This is the best news ever!” she squealed into his shoulder before pulling back. “You have to tell me all about it!”

“Easy, Jems!” Lance chuckled, pulling her back. “We don’t even know his name yet!”

“I’m Fitz,” the boy introduced. “And you are?”

“I’m Jemma, and this is my brother, Lance,” Jemma introduced, barely sitting still. 

“I prefer Hunter,” Lance said, rolling his eyes at Jemma’s antics.

Fitz nodded, and then turned his attention back to Jemma. “When did you guys go?”

“We’ve been twice!” Jemma told him. “And the first time we went, that is Mack, Bobbi, Lance and I, Bobbi and Mack are our older brother and sister, we were kings and queens.”

Fitz’s eyes slowly went wide. “Wait. You guys are the Golden Age kings and queens?”

Jemma nodded and Fitz bowed dramatically in his seat. “Well, milday, I shall be more than happy to indulge you in tales of my adventures.”

Jemma bit her lip for fear if she smiled any bigger her face might split in two. She felt a faint blush creep up her neck, and she looked away momentarily. Beside her, Lance groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“Ugh, this is disgusting!” he moaned. “Aslan, if we’re ever to come back, please let it be now!”


	27. Do You Wanna Build A Snowman?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Waking up with amnesia AU"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _BECAUSE WHO THE HECK SAYS I CAN'T WRITE A FROZEN AU TOO???? :D_

“Daisy? Daisy, come on, let’s play!” Jemma said, standing in front of Daisy’s door. 

“Go away, Jemma,” Daisy sighed from the other side. Jemma thumped her head against the door. 

_Ouch. So that’s why mummy and daddy don’t let me do that._

“Come on, Daisy!” she whined. “We used to play together all the time! What’s changed?”

There’s a silence from the other side, and Jemma worried that she’d made Daisy so upset that she’d jumped out her window. 

“Daisy?” she tapped softly twice. 

“I can’t, Jemma.” Daisy’s voice is almost too quiet to hear, but Jemma had excellent hearing and so heard it. Daisy sounded sad, heartbroken either. Jemma imagined her sister sitting sadly on her bed, crying silently. 

“Why not?” Jemma asked softly, just wanting to see Daisy again. Daisy takes another long moment to respond.

“I…I just can’t.” Jemma was about to press further, try to pry an answer out of Daisy, but her mum and dad appeared.

“What are you doing, Jemma?” her dad asked, scooping her up and bouncing her. 

“I was trying to get Daisy to play with me.”

“Daisy doesn’t want to play just now,” her mum said, giving her arm a bit of a rub.

“But she never wants to play!” Jemma protested. “Why does she never want to play anymore?”

Her parents exchanged a look so quick that she almost missed it. “Mummy? Daddy? What’s going on? Why won’t she play?”

“Daisy’s just feeling sad right now,” her mum explained. Jemma tilted her head. That was a good reason. She never felt like playing when she was sad. But she was never sad this long.

“Why would she be sad this long?” Jemma asked.

“She lost her favorite Barbie doll,” her mum said and Jemma nodded. That would be a very good reason to be sad so long. 

“Hey, speaking of Barbie dolls,” her dad said happily before she could think of anything to say. “How about you go get yours set up and I’ll come play in a minute?”

“Okay, daddy,” she agreed. She was set down and she skipped off to set up her Barbies. She was so eager to play that she missed what her dad said to her mum just before she was out of hearing range.

“Nice save, Mel.”


	28. Come Back To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "We started kissing, and I knew it was the last time I'd see you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A going away to war AU

_Don’t cry, Melinda. Don’t you_ dare _cry. Not in front of the children._

She watched as her husband hugged each of the children with a kiss and a promise that he’d see them again someday soon. Each promise made twisted the invisible knife deeper into her heart. 

Yes, Phil had been deployed five times before, but this time felt different. Each time, she’d said goodbye, with the assurance that he’d come back. But this time, she knew, she didn’t know how, she just _knew_  he wasn’t going to make it back.

It came her turn to say goodbye. She wrapped him in the biggest hug she could. She held tightly, as if she could keep him alive if she just _held on_. He hugged her back tightly, too. 

“I’m really gonna miss you, Mel,” he whispered. 

“Not as much as I’m gonna miss you,” she answered. It had become their thing that was said before he went away each time. A moment later, his lips crashed onto hers, and she kissed back.

Melinda wished magic was real; that somehow, _some way_ , her kiss could keep him here. But magic only existed in the minds of children, she concluded as he pulled away, a sad hopefulness in his eyes.

“I’ll see you soon, Mel.”

She chomped down on her bottom lip to keep from crying. She wanted to shout “no”, she wanted to scream, she wanted to do everything in her power to keep him here. But she knew that Phil was as stubborn as she, and he’d end up going anyway.

She dared not hope that his stubbornness would keep him alive over there. Hoping for something and then losing it hurt more than never hoping at all, she knew that better than anyone.

“Goodbye, Phil,” she whispered, holding onto his hand for as long as she could. As he walked away, she leaned forward, longing to prolong the touch of his fingers as long as possible. As they slipped out, she felt like a Phil-sized portion of her heart was being ripped away too.

As the ship sailed away, she sent up a silent prayer to whatever or whoever may be listening. “Come back to me, Phil.”

He never did come back.


	29. Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fluffy soulmates AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A soulmates AU in which you are born with a tattoo of the first words your soulmate will say to you

“I swear I will tear your fingernails off one by one if you don’t shut up.”

Only Phil Coulson would be so lucky as to have such a specific and graphic description of the first words his soulmate would say to him. He often wondered what kind of sick joke The Powers That Be could be playing on him pairing him with someone as violent as this person.

He kept it covered. No need for everyone to find out about it and then mock him for the rest of his days. He could take them, no doubt, he was one of the best at Shield Academy. 

He rolled his shoulders back as Coach Lepileo paired students up. Phil was put with a short, Asian woman who had the tiniest of smiles on her face. She looked dangerous, and he was immediately intimidated by her.

“Remember, you always have to trust your partner in the field!” Lepileo shouted, before shooing them off into the arena. “Time starts in ten minutes.”

Phil grabbed a few extra cartridges of paintballs and followed his partner into the arena. 

“What’s your name?” he asked. She turned her head to acknowledge his question, but didn’t answer. She then turned back around and began climbing one of the hills. 

“Okay. Not much for talking, then? I can understand that. Nice choice, by the way. Gives us a nice advantage over the others.” Phil glanced around. “This has got to be the highest hill in here. Not really one for the climb, but-”

“I swear I will tear your fingernails off one by one if you don’t shut up,” she growled. Phil froze. Did she just…?

“Wait, what did you just say?”

“I said: I will tear your fingernails off one by one if you don’t shut up,” she repeated, glaring at him. She mimicked tearing fingernails off. Phil’s eyes went wide. Could it be?

“What are the first words your soulmate says to you?” he asked. She glared at him.

“Did my threat go over your head, or-”

“Please?”

“Fine,” she sighed. “They ask me my name. But people do that all the time.”

"Yes, but do you ever respond with this?” Phil pulled down his top just low enough for her to see his tattoo. Her eyes went wide.

“Wait, does this mean that we’re…”

“Yep.” 

“Oh lord help me,” she groaned, dropping her face to the ground. 

“Come on. Surely I can’t be _that_  bad!” Phil joked, although it was more like a half joke. She looked up.

“Maybe if you shut up every once in a while, you’d be tolerable!” she snapped, although he spotted a hint of affection in her eyes.

“Shutting up as we speak,” he agreed, shutting up just as the start buzzer sounded. His soulmate suddenly leaned over and whispered in his ears.

“My name’s Melinda, by the way. Nice to meet you, soulmate.”


	30. O, Romeo, Romeo...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "A star-crossed lovers AU"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of that same freaking High School AU why do I do this

_Two students, both alike in dignity_   
_In America, where we lay our scene_   
_From lifelong rivalry, break to new mutiny_   
_Where hardheadedness makes hard heads unclean_   
_From forth the fatal anger of these two foes_   
_A new star-crossed pair begin their life_   
_Whose misjudged feelings overthrows_   
_Do with their actions bury past strife_   
_The fearful passage of their oddly-mark’d love,_   
_And the continuance of mutual rage,_   
_Which, but their pairing, nought could remove_   
_Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage;_   
_The which if you with patient ears attend,_   
_What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend._

“Whatcha writing there, Daisy?”

Daisy jumped at the sound of Trip’s voice and slammed her notebook shut before looking up.

“Hey, Trip. Nothing much.”

“Mmm hmm, ‘coz nothing much definitely warrants the slamming shut of a notebook.” He raised his eyebrows and Daisy shook her head laughing.

“You just scared me, is all.” She looked him over, desperately searching for a change of subject. His costume provided a good one. “Damn, you make a good-looking Mercutio.”

“Yeah? You don’t look half bad yourself.” Daisy smiled, absent-minded twirling the end of her hair with her finger.

“D’ythink we could write a version of Romeo and Juliet where Mercutio and Juliet’s nurse get together?” Trip raised his eyebrows and Daisy bit her bottom lip.

_Yikes, Daisy! What was that???_

“Maybe,” Trip agreed, catching her by surprise. “”Is that what you were writing in there?” 

He motioned to the notebook and Daisy cursed inwardly. Her change of topic hadn’t worked. She shook her head and looked away. 

“Then whatcha writing?”

“Nothing.”

Trip sighed, but he had a smile on his face. Daisy couldn’t help but smile a bit too; Trip’s smile was contagious. 

“Hey, look, that’s your cue!” he said suddenly, pointing to where Miss Kirke had given the signal. Daisy narrowed her eyes at him.

“If you so much as touch this when I’m out there, I will kill you.”

"I look forward to it.” He threw her a wink and she turned and walked on stage, biting back her smile. The scene went over without a hitch, except at the end when the Servant came on too early. 

Daisy left the stage when she was supposed to and discovered Grant Ward backstage with a bleeding nose and Trip clutching her notebook away from him. She frowned.

"Trip? What happened?”

“Dumbass tried to read your notebook,” he answered angrily. “So I punched him.”

Daisy gently pulled her book from Trips hand, smiling softly. “Thanks, Trip. But next time, let’s try not to punch anyone, yeah?”

“Self defense, girl,” he answered. “He grabbed my arm pretty hard so I punched him.”

Daisy tried not to smile. “Well, aren’t you just the knight in shining armour?”

“It’s a pleasure, milady,” he said, giving her a very old fashioned dramatic bow. She bit back on a very girly giggle. He raised his head and tenderly kissed her hand. She felt a blush tinge her cheeks, and she tried to fight it back down.

“ _Ugh_ , guys that is disgusting, get a room!” Hunter muttered as he walked past, ready to go on stage. Daisy didn’t hold back her laugh this time, and Trip straightened up.

“What’s so funny?”

“I, um,” she leaned in close to whisper in his ear, “may or may not have been writing the Romeo and Juliet prologue HunterMorse style.”

“No way, girl,” he laughed. She nodded, trying desperately not to laugh to loud. “Nice!”

"I’ll bet you twenty bucks they fall for each other by full dress rehearsal,” Daisy said. Trip shook his head, smiling.

“Nah, I reckon it’ll be halfway through the production on the night and they’ll just forgo the script and madly make out with each other.”

The two collapsed into each other’s arms and laughed quietly. Daisy giggled so much that she got tears in her eyes.

“Guys!” Hunter hissed suddenly. “I’m serious! Get. A. Room. This is _disgusting_!”


	31. She Saved The Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because what better time to read all about what happened during that Bahrain Simulation than while we're still licking our wounds?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Contains major spoilers for 4x11

May sees her. She looks scared, like she did the last time.

Yes, May _knows_ it’s just a simulation. But she doesn’t care. She _will_ save Katya this time. She doesn’t care how many times she has to go through the simulation.

May yanks the lamp pole out of Eva, and the inhuman falls to the ground dead, just like last time. And, just like last time, Katya emerges from behind the carpets. May tenses. She wants to, no, she _needs_ to save this girl, but how can she do that if she’s got powers?

Katya cautiously peeks over at Eva and then back at May.

“Is it safe?” she asks. Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it echoes off the silent walls of the warehouse. May nods.

“Yeah, sweetie, it’s safe.” Katya steps forward, and May resists the urge to recoil. After all, Simulation Katya doesn’t know that she’s just a simulation.

“Can you please take me out of here? I’m scared.”

May ponders her options. She could take Katya’s hand, and risk being under her influence. Or she could shoot - no, that was not an option. Or she could try to talk Katya down. But would the girl listen?

“I’m scared,” Katya repeats, taking slow steps towards May. May can’t help but recoil this time. Katya furrows her brow. “Are you scared, too?”

May shakes her head slightly, and opens her mouth to respond, but no words come out. It’s at this moment that Agent Hart entered the room, the other twenty-something men in tow.

“Agent May? Are you alright?”

It takes May a few seconds to process. They are free; they are not under any inhuman’s influence. Katya is not inhuman. She feels a wave of relief wash over her, and almost cries. She offers a nod to Hart and then answers the girl.

“No. No, I’m not scared.” She holds out her hand for Katya to take. Katya’s hand is small, and soft. Best of all, nothing happens. She doesn’t become a mindless robot.

May struggles to her feet, not letting go of Katya’s hand. Agent Hart takes a few steps as he speaks.

“Here, let me.”

“No. I’ve got it.” She looks at him and he nods and takes a step back. May leads Katya down the stairs towards the exit, never once letting go of her hand, despite the pain shooting through her leg with each step.

“Is your leg hurt?” Katya asks when they reach the bottom of the stairs. May nods, breathing deeply.

“A little bit. But I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Katya nods, taking May at her word. Together, they exit the building, where Katya is immediately scooped up by paramedics. May has to take a few minutes to calm her down, but they’re both soon in an ambulance; Katya in a bed and May sitting on the step.

She takes out her phone to call Andrew. He needs to know that it went alright. The phone rings once. The phone rings twice. After the third ring, Andrew picks up.

“Melinda?” May smiles at his voice.

“I did it Andrew,” she tells him, glancing back at Katya. Katya smiles at her.

“Thank you,” she whispers. May smiles back at her.

“I saved the girl,” she tells Andrew. She can hear his smile on the other end of the line.

“That’s great, Melinda. You did great.”

May smiles to herself. She knows it’s just a simulation. But she doesn’t care. She saved the girl.


	32. Koalas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: FS + koala hugging sesh, where one is super sweet and the other is a spawn of Satan but both of them are dying from the cuteness of the joeys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Galavant AU nobody asked for

Jemma’s in the kitchen, preparing dinner for the royals when Fitz enters, carrying two furry beasts. Jemma yelps, almost dropping the garlic on the floor.

“Fitz! What are those?” she questions in a scolding tone. Fitz grins somewhat abashedly.

“They’re called koalas, Jemma. Here, hold one.”

“Where did you get those?” she asks, turning back to her cooking. “And I can’t! I have to prepare dinner, which you should be helping with.”

“I, um, er,” Fitz trails off and Jemma looks up again.

“Fitz.” Her tone is a warning and Fitz looks down.

“I may have borrowed them from the royals,” he admits quietly. Jemma rolls her eyes.

“’Ugh, Fitz! You should know better! Do you know what will happen if they find out that their exotic animals are missing?”

“I couldn’t help it, Jemma! They’re just so cute and fluffy. I mean, not monkeys by any means, but…”

Fitz pulls the Puppy Eyes, and Jemma caves with a sigh. She never could say no to the Puppy Eyes.

“Fine. But only for a few minutes. Then you put them right back and help me finish cooking.”

“Deal,” he agrees, breaking out into a smile. He passes the smaller one to Jemma, who immediately curls up into her. Jemma smiles, petting it gently.

“You’re right. They are quite cute.”

“See, I told you th-ow!” Fitz yelps as his koala scratches him. He shifts the koala, trying to soothe it, but to no avail. The koala keep scratching at him and he frowns. “Rotten little bastard.”

“Fitz! Watch your language!” Jemma scolds, shaking her head. She then passes her koala back. “Perhaps he just wants to be left alone for a while. You should take them back.”

Fitz begrudgingly agrees and scurries off to put them back, while trying not to be too loud for fear that the royals would catch him. Jemma watched him go, then smiled and shook her head. 

She liked Fitz a lot. She really did. But he couldn’t be getting up to such shenanigans. Not when they were peasants in a feudal world. One misstep and it was game over. But Jemma found that she preferred not to dwell on such things.

So she simply continued to do what she knew how to do best: cook for the royals. 


	33. Leo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was it like on the day Fitz's father walked out on them? 
> 
> A coda fic for 4x12. Contains spoilers for episode (duh)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning:** domestic abuse

Leo didn’t like it when his parents shouted at each other. It was loud, and scary. It made his heart go faster than he wanted it to go. It made him tense for such long periods of time that his muscles ached. It made him cry so much that he was sure he’d never cry again. 

The shouting got worse every time it happened. This time, it had gone on for an hour and a half. 

Leo was dry-eyed and exhausted from his heart beating so fast and his muscles being tense so long. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to get up off the floor. 

Usually, his mum would come in and comfort him ten or so minutes after the shouting had stopped. But it had already been a half hour. He was scared. He was scared that his mum might never come. 

Another ten minutes ticked by. Another ten minutes of gently rocking himself. Another ten minutes of being terrified for his life. Another ten minutes of silence.

The ten minutes is interrupted by a soft tap on the door, followed by a gentle, “Leo?”

“Mum?” His voice cracks, and tears that he didn’t know were still there spilled forward. The door opened slowly and his mother appeared, blurry through the tears. She closed the door and sat down beside him, pulling him in for a tight hug.

“Leo, baby, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, gently stroking his hair. He clung tightly to her. 

“Why does dad shout like that?” he asked in between sobs. His mum kissed the top of his head. 

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” she said after a moment’s silence. There was a hesitation in her voice that Leo just caught, despite his emotional state. But he knew not to ask about it. 

So the two sat there in silence, aside from the occasional sniffle and hiccup from Leo, just holding each other. Leo was just starting to calm down when a door slammed. His mother immediately got up, and he copied.

“Wait here, Leo,” she instructed, leaving the room and following what sounded like a very disgruntled father down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Leo heard his mother shout. He tensed, wanting to curl up in a ball again. But instead, he took a deep breath and peered out, before tiptoeing down the stairs.

“Away!” he heard his father shout back angrily. He crouched down at the bottom of the stairs and peeked through the gap in the wall that his mother was always saying they should fix. 

“To where?”

“To where I don’t have to deal with your fucking shit and that worthless excuse for a child!” 

Leo winced, the all-too-familiar feeling of disappointment filling his heart. He choked back a fresh batch of tears, suddenly feeling thirsty. He watched on as his mother tried to talk his father out of it, but she was unsuccessful. 

He flinched as the front door slammed. He dared not move. He didn’t think he could move anyway. Until his mother spoke.

“It’s okay, Leo. You can come out now.” Her voice was quiet, almost breaking. Leo slowly emerged from his hiding spot and took a few shaky steps forward, unsure of what to do. His mother turned to face him after his third step.

“Are you okay, baby?” she asked, moving forward to give him a hug. He nodded against her chest. It was a long moment before Leo spoke. 

“Mum? Where’s dad going?” His mother sighed, a sadness in it that Leo didn’t understand. 

“I don’t know, sweetie.”


	34. The Notebook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The character loses a notebook full of their ideas and someone else finds it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A writer/primary (elementary) school AU

“No, no, no,” Jemma mutters, frantically digging through the mountain of papers sprawled out all over her desk. They had been stacked in a neat pile in the tub under the tabletop, but her search was desperate, hence the scrambled mess of paper. 

But no matter how much she dug, she couldn’t see it. And it should be as clear as mud; it was brown against white. 

After going through the pile for the third time, the sinking realisation hit her: her notebook was gone. She sunk down into her chair, feeling tears burn her eyes.

“No,” she whispered, feeling an almost crushing weight of despair settle on her shoulders. That was three years’ worth of ideas, gone, in a heartbeat.

**_Meanwhile, on the oval…_ **

Fitz watched quietly from the bank as the other boys kicked the ball around. He wished he could play. But he was never good enough for them; he was never picked to be on one of the teams. They thought he was too nerdy to play. 

It was a sore constantly being bitten down on. 

He sighed and stood up, not wanting to sit by idly and watch. If he couldn’t play, he could at least walk a few laps around the oval before the bell rang. 

As he walked along, he hummed a little tune his mum sang to him every night when he was a little boy. Now that he was an older boy, his mum would only sing it to him when he was sad or scared, which had been quite frequent in recent years. 

He kicked stray rocks along with his foot, and just before he kicked a supposed rock, he stopped, thinking it had quite an odd shape. He bent down to investigate, and found that it wasn’t a rock at all. It was a notebook.

He picked it up and dusted it off as best he could. Fortunately, it hadn’t been raining, so it was just a bit dirty, not muddy. He turned it over, looking for a name. There, on the back, in what he thought was beautiful handwriting, the name “Jemma Simmons” was scrawled. 

“Jemma,” he mused to himself. “That’s a pretty name.”

He didn’t know who this Jemma Simmons was, so he figured he might hold on to it until he could find her and return her notebook.

**_Later that day…_ **

“Leopold Fitz”

“It’s just Fitz, actually,” he said. A couple of the boys snickered, but he ignored them. The teacher nodded.

“Alright, Fitz.” She marked him off, and then continued. Fitz zoned out, not caring much about the other students names. But he was suddenly jolted back to attention when he heard the name he’d been wondering about since recess.

“Jemma Simmons.”

“Present!” Fitz looked over and saw her, sitting on the opposite side of the room, in the chair closest to the front. He couldn’t help but think she looked as pretty as her name sounded. So he really couldn’t help but stare at her. 

But then she looked at him. And she smiled. Fitz’s mouth went dry and he knew his pupils had dilated. He cleared his throat quietly and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, and so he looked down, pretending to be very interested in the top of his table. 

**_After school…_ **

He bumped in to her, quite literally, when they were both leaving. They had been the last two in the classroom, and the last two in the bag room as they packed their backpacks with the things they needed for that evening. Neither one of them had spoken.

It was the collision that seemed to break the spell of silence.

“Sorry,” Fitz muttered, looking down at his shoes. He didn’t want to look up at her; he’d surely start blushing.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Fitz, isn’t it?”

He looked up, despite himself. “Y-You know my name?”

“Of course,” she said with a smile. “I make a point to memorize all my peers’ names before I have class with them. Then I pay attention to who responds when the roll is called.”

“That’s cu-nice!” Fitz decided, quickly correcting himself. “That’ really nice.”

Her smile grew wider and then she shook her head. “Oh, silly me, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m-”

“Jemma Simmons,” Fitz finished for her. “I, um, found something of yours earlier today.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the notebook. She gasped and took it from him.

“My notebook! Oh, thank you, Fitz!”

Then, without warning, she threw her arms around her neck. It surprised him so much that he almost forgot to hug back. When she pulled away, she was grinning from ear to ear. 

“Well, it was really nice meeting you, Fitz. Thank you for returning my notebook. It’s really special to me. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Fitz nodded and watched her leave. He let out a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding. He then let his own smile come out on to his face. Jemma was nice, and she made him want to smile. He whistled a happy tune as he left, too.

And he was going to get to see her again, tomorrow.


	35. Sun Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The character has a specific writing ritual, which gets interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A writer/Children's Hospital AU

Daisy peeked her head out onto the roof, to make sure no one was around. Once satisfied, she carefully stepped out onto the roof. The cool, morning breeze hit her and made her shiver a little bit. 

She pulled her robe tighter around her and wandered over to her favourite spot on the roof - a small pile of bricks on the eastern side. There, she sat down and pulled out her pad and pen, and began to write. 

She’d been writing since she was very little, and now she was nine. She liked how she could make anyone anything and put them anywhere. It made her feel free, like she could fly. 

And she really liked it, since she was trapped in a body with asthma.

She’d been in and out of hospital ever since she was just a baby. According to her mom, her asthma had “been a battle since day one”. She didn’t know exactly what that meant (she’d only heard her mom say it to other moms), but she thought her mom may just be saying that she felt trapped with it, but just in a more grown-up way.

She’d discovered the roof one day when her mom had been signing lots of forms, and she’d wandered off. She’d instantly liked it, and so had come up as often as she could. The roof also made her feel free; like she was above her asthma.

So, she’d thought: why not make this her Free Spot? So, she’d begun to write here, every morning with the sunrise. The doctors and nurses still didn’t know that this is where she came. 

Daisy chewed the end of her pen, wondering what to write this morning. She quickly decided to write about a dragon that sucked up power from the sun and then breathed the sun on to children in the hospital to make them better. 

She was so focused on her story that she didn’t hear the door open, and footsteps approach. So, she got quite a fright when a hand was placed gently on her back. 

“Dr Phil! Hi!” She grinned at him.

“Hey, Daisy,” he said, bending down to her height. “What’re you doing up here?”

“I’m writin’,” she answered. 

“About what?” He made himself comfortable on the concrete next to her. 

“About a dragon who sucks up parts of the sun each morning and then he breathes the sun onto the kids in the hospital and they get better,” Daisy explained excitedly, moving her arms around wildly. Phil smiled softly at her. 

“Why are you writing that up here? Why not in your bed?”

“’Coz my asthma can’t get to me up here. Plus, the wind brings me ideas, and so I can’t get my ideas if the wind doesn’t bring it to me.”

Phil nodded. “Can you read a bit to me?”

Daisy agreed happily and began reading what she’d written. Phil listened intently, getting engaged in her writing, and reacting at all the right times. Sure, the reactions may have been a little forced, and over-the-top, but it was worth it to see the smile on her face.

However, both were interrupted by Dr May. She raised her eyebrows at Phil, who responded with a sheepish grin. She ignored him for the moment and knelt down to be eye level with Daisy.

“Daisy, sweetie, I know you like being up here, but you can’t be. It’s not safe. Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

Despite her disappointment, Daisy came along and climbed back into her bed. Her notepad, pen, and pump were placed next to her bed. May pulled the covers over her, only to stop short when Daisy started wheezing. May sat her up and helped her with her pump, and Phil put the filter on, to suck the pollen and dust from the room.

Once it was all settled down, Daisy began to doze off, and May and Phil left the room. Outside, May almost immediately began scolding him, giving him the usual lecture of keeping the children where they were meant to be. He listened quietly, as he always did, and waited until she walked away before letting out a long breath.

He knew he should follow May’s instructions, and keep the children where they were meant to be. But he couldn’t help it; he adored the children’s smiles when they were having fun (even if that fun was occurring where it wasn’t meant to be occurring). Besides, the roof wasn’t _that_  dangerous, just as long as she didn’t climb up on a ledge; and Phil knew that she was smart enough not to do that.

Forget what Dr May said, he thought. He was going to let Daisy wait for the Sun Dragon. In fact, the next morning, he helped her up on to the roof, to wait for her Sun Dragon to come and make her better.


	36. Frozen Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Disney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for yohoyohoafandomlifeforme on Tumblr, as part of the Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine. 
> 
> A Frozen AU

Jemma let out a bit of a squeal as she slid down the icy slide. Olaf tumbled down behind her. She shivered and got up, knowing that she had to find Fitz before it was too late.

“We made it!” Olaf cheered as Jemma set off. Olaf shook himself free of the excess snow and hurriedly padded along behind her, towards the castle gates. The wind was strong, and Jemma stumbled, her slowly freezing bones making it harder to stay upright.

 

 

Fitz urged Sven on faster, towards Providence. He had to save Jemma. Sven picked up the pace, nearly stumbling over, his hooves barely able to keep up. Fitz squinted and turned his head as they ran straight on into the storm, holding on tight. 

He was almost there. Just a little further.

“Come on, Sven!” he shouted. “Faster!”

Despite the reindeer’s struggle to keep up, Sven somehow managed to push himself just a little bit faster. Fitz strained his neck to try and spot Jemma, although the thick snow made it quite impossible to see a few feet in front.

 

 

Jemma, also, was trying to find Fitz. But, just like him, she could barely see more than two feet in front. She shivered again, but brushed it off. Yes, she knew that her body was literally freezing up from the inside out (scientifically impossible, yes, but a lot of impossible stuff had been occurring recently), but she had to find Fitz.

“Fitz!” she called out, lifting her hand to shield her from an icy blast. Behind her, Olaf caught the icy blast, and Jemma just heard him call out to her.

“Keep going!”

“Fitz!”

 

 

Fitz held tightly to Sven’s reins as they navigated their way through the storm. He glanced up just in time to see one of the ships coming loose; the immense speed of the wind was pushing it up out of its icy trap.

“Sven!”

Sven pushed himself to the absolute limit as he galloped past. He leapt off a slanted ramp of ice, and then made a mad dash. Fitz watched, terrified as the ship slowly leaned towards them. He knew they’d be crushed if they didn’t make it past in time.

“Come on, come on, come on.” He silently willed the ship to lean slower. He didn’t bother wishing for Sven to go faster; he knew the reindeer was going as fast as he possibly could. He just hoped it was fast enough.

Jemma let out a quiet yelp as she thought she saw a ship next to her tilt over towards her. She glanced up, but saw that it was still firmly in place. She pulled her arms in close to try and shield her hands from the wind, and looked down at them when a sudden icy feeling swept through her veins to her fingertips. She gasped as she saw a thin layer of ice gloss over them. 

“Oh, no,” she whispered. “Not yet. Please, not yet.”

She pulled her hands back in close to herself and staggered on. She was  _ going _ to get to Fitz.

 

 

The ship toppled faster than Fitz wished for it to. He ducked his head and held on for dear life as Sven weaved through the falling boxes and crates, and then out under the front,  _ just _ evading being crushed. However, the impact of the ship caused the ice to crack and Fitz’s heart leapt to his throat as he watched it crack in a jagged line past him and Sven.

The ice broke a few feet ahead, revealing the freezing water. Lilly pads of ice bobbed at the surface, and Fitz held his breath as Sven jumped, landing on the first one, and was launched off his reindeer’s back as Sven stopped suddenly, to keep them both from falling in.

The momentum from the buck was enough to get Fitz across, but also enough for Sven to lose his balance and topple in. Fitz turned and looked back, gaping in horror when he didn’t see Sven.

“Sven!” 

Sven quickly reemerged and pulled himself up onto an ice lilly pad. Fitz threw him a lopsided grin, relieved that he was okay.

“Good boy!” He then turned and took off running to find Jemma.

 

 

“Fitz!” Jemma’s voice was getting weaker, and her bones more stiff. She nearly fell when another blast hit her, but she was able to swing her other foot around in time to catch herself. “Fitz!”

She knew she was dying. In all honesty, the concept had never scared her; she knew that there was nothing to be afraid of. After all, it was just returning to the way it was before she was born. That’s what her mum had always said. 

But now, faced with the harsh reality of death, it terrified her. It terrified her that she’d never get to see, or hear, or taste, or touch, or smell anything ever again. It terrified her that she was going to be alone. And perhaps the most terrifying thing is that it was her own sister that had caused it. 

All of this should have been enough to stop her; enough to make her curl up in a terrified ball and just die right where she was. But, somehow, someway, something inside of her pushed her forward. Something kept her moving. 

Her dad had always told her that a human’s greatest desire was to live; to keep surviving, but this felt like more than just that.

 

 

Fitz froze as he hear Jemma’s voice calling his name. It was weak, almost a whisper, but he heard it.

“Jemma?”

He looked around, trying to spot Jemma, but the snow had gotten worse. He could barely see a foot in front of him.

But that wasn’t going to stop him. He was  _ going _ to find Jemma. And he was going to save her.

 

 

Daisy didn’t know where she was going. All she knew is that she had to get out, and fast. She turned around, trying to figure out where exactly she was when she saw Will. She gasped in fright and turned back around to run.

“Daisy!” he shouted. “You can’t run from this!”

She stopped in her tracks. She knew that he was right; that no matter where she ran, the ice and the fear would follow. But at least it would be with  _ her _ and not with Jemma. She couldn’t ask Jemma to put up with it. 

“Just take care of my sister,” she pleaded, turning to face him and taking a few steps back. It broke her heart, that she had to leave. But it was for Jemma’s, and everyone’s, safety.

“Your sister? She returned from the mountain weak and cold.” Daisy’s heart leapt to her throat. “She said that  _ you _ froze her heart.”

Daisy’s eyes went wide. “No...no!”

She stepped backwards, refusing to believe it. She was supposed to  _ protect _ Jemma, not freeze her heart!

“I tried to save her!” Will went on. “But it was too late! Her skin was ice, her hair turned white! Your sister is dead! Because of  _ you _ !”

“No.” Daisy shook her head, and stumbled backwards. It couldn’t be true. She couldn’t have killed her sister. And yet, deep down, she knew it was true. Tears burned in her eyes and she turned away to hide them from Will. As she turned, the immense weight of her mistakes crushed her, and her legs gave out from under her.

She caught herself with her hands. She was unaware that the wind was no longer blowing, and that the snow was suspended in mid air. She felt numb.

 

 

Jemma shivered and drew in an incredibly shaky breath. If she had to guess, she only had about a minute and a half more left to live. There was no way she could make it to Fitz in time. Unless he was...right there! He was right there, not far off! She could make it, if only she tried!

“Fitz? Fitz!” Her voice was barely a whisper, but in the silence of the space, it seemed like a shout.

Fitz could barely believe his eyes. She was there, right there! He took off running towards her. “Jemma!”

 

 

As he ran, Jemma forced one foot in front of the other towards him. They were so close, they could do this! Just a little...bit...further…

Jemma’s head turned as she heard a sword being drawn from its sheath. There stood Will, with his sword drawn. He took two steps towards Daisy raising his sword in the air.

“Daisy?” Jemma glanced back at Fitz, still running towards her. Her heart was torn. She knew that if she kissed Fitz, her sister would die. But if she blocked Will,  _ she _ would die. Despite the conflict, it was really a no-brainer for her. 

“I’m so sorry, Fitz,” she whispered, before using the last of her energy to launch herself over to the pair and stand between Will and Daisy. 

She raised her hand to block him with a shout of, “No!”

In that moment, her skin froze over. The sword came down on the now-frozen Jemma, shattering on impact. The energy from the impact threw Will backwards, and he collapsed onto the ice unconscious. Jemma let out her final breath.

Daisy turned and looked up. She gasped when she saw Jemma standing there, an ice sculpture. 

“Jemma!” She got up and hurried around to the front to see her better. “Oh, Jemma! No! No, please, no!”

She tentatively reached out and touched her sister’s face as she pleaded, running a tender hand down it, as if it might somehow melt the ice and bring her back. It didn’t.

“Jemma,” she whispered, a fresh batch of tears rising to the surface. She threw her arms around Jemma and sobbed. It wasn’t fair. Jemma didn’t deserve to die. Not like this. Not when Daisy had so much she wanted to do and say to her. 

She wasn’t aware of Fitz, Sven and Olaf who had congregated around them a few feet away. She wasn’t aware of anything except the crushing weight of grief again being too much to stand up under. 

She wasn’t aware of the sparkle that began at Jemma’s heart and stretched quickly along the rest of her body. She wasn’t aware of the ice dissipation; of Jemma coming back, until the statue she was hugging moved. She looked up, her heart suddenly rising.

“Jemma?” Her sister looked down at her with a smile. Daisy leapt up and nearly bowled her over with a hug. Jemma hugged her back just as tightly. 

“Hey, Daisy,” Jemma said with a wet smile. Daisy felt more tears, but this time they were of joy, not of grief.

“Y-You sacrificed yourself for me?” she breathed out. She couldn’t believe it. She’d done  _ nothing _ to deserve it, and yet Jemma had. 

“Don’t you go giving me that look,” Jemma scolded playfully, able to read her thoughts through her expression. “I did it because I love you.”

Olaf suddenly gasped. “An act of true love will thaw a frozen heart!”

Daisy’s eyes suddenly widened, the realisation hitting her like a block of ice. How could she have been so stupid? She let go of Jemma’s hands and stumbled around a bit, feeling like an idiot.

“How could I have been so stupid? Of course that’s the answer! And it was right under my nose this  _ whole time _ !”

“What on earth are you babbling on about, Daisy?”

“Love!” she declared, stopping and facing Jemma. “Love is how I control my powers! How did I miss that? I’m such an  _ idiot _ …”

“Daisy! One more self-deprecating word and I’ll give you a very hard love tap to the back of the head!” Jemma threatened, although Daisy could still see her smile. She grinned somewhat abashedly.

“Yeah, ok, got it. Sorry. Now, let’s see…” She looked down to the ground and filled her thoughts with only Jemma. As the thoughts came in, her heart began to fill with a feeling of love towards Jemma. As this happened, Daisy began to raise the snow and ice. 

She swept her hands outwards to collect all the frozen water and then slowly raised her hands skyward, bringing the snow and ice up with it. Once it was all up in the sky, in a nice snowflake shape (very original, Daisy laughed to herself), she flicked her hands outwards, making it all disappear.

She turned back to Jemma, grinning from ear to ear. Jemma was also smiling, and the two shared another hug. Daisy decided that the first thing on their very long to-do list was catch up on all their years of missed hugs.

“Awww, this is the happiest day of my life!’ Olaf squealed, interrupting the girls. Daisy blinked when she saw he was melting. “And quite possibly the last.”

“Hang on,” Daisy giggled, quickly putting him back together, and forming a little cloud above his head to keep him cool. 

“My own personal little flurry!” Olaf gasped. He giggled with joy and if Daisy could have smile wider, she would have. 

The sisters’ attention was drawn to the barrels on the starboard when a groan was heard from said direction. Will was slowly staggering to his feet, rubbing his head. Fitz stepped forward, ready to deck him, but Jemma stepped up first, placing a hand on his chest and shaking her head. Fitz took a step back and let her deal with him, although was ready if she needed help.

“Jemma?” he asked, massaging his jaw. “But she froze your heart!”

“The only frozen heart around here is yours,” Jemma sassed back. She turned to walk away, but surprised him by suddenly whirling around and punching him right in the face. He lost his balance and toppled over the side of the boat.

She waltzed back over to Daisy amidst the laughs. Daisy pulled her back in for yet another hug.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to do this more when-”

She was cut off by a slap to the upside of her head. She pulled back and came face to face with a very stern-looking Jemma.

“What the hell, Jemma?” she grunted

Jemma quirked an eyebrow. “What did I say about self-deprecating?” 

“But that wasn’t even self-deprecating!” she whined. “It was an apology.”

“ _ Which _ had the sentiment of self-deprecation.”

“You know that I’m supposed to be the older sister here, right?” she challenged, crossing her arms. Jemma mimicked her actions.

“Well, how about you start acting like the older sister?” 

Daisy opened her mouth to respond, but Olaf cut them off. “Aaaannnndddd I think that’s our cue to start the party! What do you say, Fitz?”

“I say that’s a fantastic idea,” Fitz agreed. He really wasn’t in the mood for a sister fight.

“Okay, one,” Jemma defended stepping forward, “We were  _ not _ fighting just then. That was called bickering. And two-”

“-nobody actually asked your opinion,” Daisy finished with a satisfied smirk. Fitz was wise enough to step back in surrender, and Olaf reluctantly followed suit once stared down by the girls. Once satisfied, Daisy linked her arm in Jemma’s.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.” Together, they walked off arm in arm and struck up another conversation.

“It’s not going to be a party without cake. What kind of cake should we have?”

“Well, I’ve always liked red velvet.”

“Really? I was thinking more along the lines of chocolate. Everybody loves chocolate cake.”

“I thought I should be the one to decide. After all, I  _ did _ just come back from the dead.”

“Too soon, Jemma. Too soon.”


	37. Boy, Girl, Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Chapter 35: Sun Dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cheesiest and fluffiest cheesy fluff to ever exist. Seriously, it's baby StaticQuake. I don't think you can get much cheesier and fluffier than that.

Daisy is interrupted from her book when there’s a commotion outside. She turns her head to see a bunch of doctors and nurses rushing a patient past, shouting things at each other. It looks like a scene from some of those Hospital TV shows that some of the older kids at the orphanage watch. 

She just catches a glimpse of who it is: it’s a boy, and he has white skin. Daisy doesn’t see anything else of him, though she does quietly slip out of her bed and peeks out into the hallway. But the nurses and doctors obstructed her view. Plus, Dr Melinda scolded her and got her back into bed. 

As Dr Melinda pulled the sheets back up over her, Daisy wondered who he was, and why he was here. She decided that she would find out as soon as she could. After all, it wasn’t often that there was another kid in here that she could make friends with.

**_That evening..._ **

Daisy quickly discovers that the boy is in the room next to hers. She stands at the window and looks through. The boy is lying on his bed, holding a grown-up lady’s hand. A grown up man is standing behind the lady, and Daisy feels a tinge of sadness as she quickly draws the conclusion that the grown-ups are his mom and dad. She wishes she had a mom and dad. 

She watches as the boy dozes off, and ducks behind a push cart against the wall as his parents leave. She watches them walk away slowly, holding hands. She sees the man kiss the top of the woman’s head, and she wonders what that feels like - she’s never had a top-of-the-head kiss before. 

She waits a moment longer before quietly tiptoeing into the boy’s room, and closes the door behind her. The room smells different to hers, although she doesn’t exactly know how. 

Daisy quietly goes up to the boy’s bed and takes a long moment to look him over. He looks about her age, and he has white skin and blonde hair. His left arm is wrapped up in bandages, and he has a few tubes sticking out of him. She wonders again what happened to him, and then she also wonders what colour his eyes might be. 

They’d surely be brown, she thinks. Brown would look quite nice for him. Then again, maybe green would be better? No, brown is definitely the better colour, she decides. 

She then starts to think about what his name could be. Surely it would be something starting with either L, M, or D. Luke, maybe? Or perhaps Lachlan? Maybe it was Michael, Matthew or Mark. Or maybe even Daniel or David. She tilted her head, thinking hard.

“Are you finished staring at me?”

His voice startles her and she took a small jump backwards, placing a hand over her chest. It had scared her because his eyes were still closed when he said that.

“How did you see me?” She crosses her arms, and he opens his eyes fully, smiling a little.

“My eyes were open.”

“No, they weren’t! Your eyes were closed the whole time!”

“No, they were closed! I was watching the whole time and they were closed!”

“They were actually open, just not enough for you to see.”

Daisy stops. “What?”

“They were only open a little bit,” he explains. “What you do is you close your eyes and then just open them a teeny, tiny little bit so you can see, but people can’t see that you see.”

Daisy tries it, and, to her astonishment, it actually worked. “Hey! That’s so cool!”

“I know!” he says with a smile. “I’m Lincoln, by the way.”

_Lincoln. I knew his name started with either L, M, or D._

“I’m Daisy.” She holds out her hand for him to shake, which he does. “So why are you here?”

“I got a really bad electric shock. Why are _you_  here?”

“I have asthma. Except up on the roof. I can’t get asthma up on the roof.”

“Why not?” Lincoln’s now fully awake, and he sits up a little. Daisy casts a glance over her shoulder, to make sure no doctors or nurses caught her. Then, she leans in really close and whispers,

“Because there’s a Sun Dragon up there who always makes sure I don’t get asthma up there.”

Lincoln furrows his brow. “What’s a Sun Dragon?”

“I can’t tell you,” Daisy says, still whispering. “I can only tell you up there ‘coz the roof is the Sun Dragon’s place and I can only explain up there.”

“Can you tell me tomorrow morning?” he asks, his eyes full of happiness. Daisy nods.

“Mmmhmm. I’ll be in just before the sunrise, okay? I’m just in the room next door.”

Lincoln nods in agreement and lays back down as Daisy quietly sneaks out, back to her own room so she doesn’t get caught

**_The next morning...._ **

Daisy shows up before the sun has risen, just like she promised. Lincoln is a bit tired, but very excited to go up to the roof. Yes, the doctors had ordered strict bed rest, but it was just his arm. He didn’t need his arm to walk up to the roof. Besides, Daisy seems like a pro at sneaking up to the roof, so he trusts her. 

They make it up there faster than he expected, and are just in time to see the sunrise. Daisy had made him bring his blanket, which he’s grateful for, because it’s quite chilly. She points at the sunrise. 

“The Sun Dragon sucks up energy from the sun and then breathes on kids in the hospital to take their sickness away,” she explains. “Then the kids can be better. She’s the most powerful when sucking up energy from the sunrise, or sunset.”

“’She’?” Daisy glares at him.

"Not every dragon is a boy, Lincoln. Otherwise, there would be no dragons.”

He squints. “Huh?”

“Do you know _nothing_  about dragons? There needs to be a girl dragon and a boy dragon in order to have baby dragons! Coz the boy dragon needs to bring the eggshell and water, and the girl dragon has to bring the Baby Dragon Seeds!”

“The baby dragon seeds?” Lincoln sits down on the pile of bricks and Daisy sighs.

“I can’t believe you’re a boy but don’t know anything about dragons!” But she still gives him an explanation. “Dragons grow in eggs. But for the dragon to grow, there first has to be special Baby Dragon Seeds, like plants sprout from. And then there’s water because dragons are like those little beads that soak up the water and they become really squishy and everything.”

“Oh I know those!” Lincoln says excitedly. “I sometimes get in trouble for throwing them around.”

“They’re so fun to throw around!” Daisy agrees with a giggle. “Anyway, so the girl dragon is the only one who has the seeds because she’s the only one who can reach the tree where the seeds are kept, and-”

“Why? Why can’t the boy dragon reach the Seed Tree.”

"I...I don’t know.” Daisy blinks a few times frowning. “You’ll have to ask a grown up that. Anyway, the seeds and water are put in the egg and then the dragons breath fire on it to seal it and then the baby dragon grows, and that’s how dragons are made.”

“Cool! What color are the eggs?”

“I dunno, I’ve never seen one up close.” She stares at the sunrise again. “But I like to think they’re blue.”

“Why blue?” he asks from behind her.

“Miss Olney says that blue is the color of love. And I think she’s like. Because the ocean is blue, and so is the sky, and both of those blue, and I know that love is really big. Also, blueberries are blue, and there are lots of them, and I know that love means loving a lot of things about the other person. And then I’ve heard that you can drown in love, just like you can drown in the ocean, and I’ve also heard that loving someone makes you feel like you can fly, like a bird flying in the sky and-”

“You sound like you’ve never really felt love,” Lincoln interrupts, leaning against the edge like she was. 

“I have!” Daisy defends herself and then looks down. “Just sometimes people haven’t loved me, too.”

“That’s silly,” Lincoln decides quickly. “You’re really nice, and pretty and you have a Sun Dragon! Why wouldn’t people love you?”

Daisy shrugs, not looking at him. She suddenly blurts quietly, “I don’t have a mom or a dad.” 

"What happened to them?” he asks after a moment. Daisy shrugs again.

“I guess the didn’t love me,” she says sadly. Lincoln feels like crying. How could she not have someone who loved her?

“I’ll love you, if you want,” he offers. She looks up at him, equally surprised and hopeful. 

“Really?” He nods solemnly. She smiles and then giggles.

“What?”

"Your eyes are blue.” 

He grins at that. “Yeah, they are. The color of love, yeah?”

Daisy giggles again and nods. “I guess you were meant to love me.”

He pushes off and holds out his hands for her. She puts her hands in his, being careful of his bandaged hand. What happened next felt like a scene from a movie, with the early morning sun in the background and a gentle breeze rippling through the trees. He bent over and gave her a little top-of-the-head kiss. 

“Yeah, I guess I was.”

And overhead, Daisy can swear she hears the Sun Dragon roar happily. 


	38. Allergic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitzsimmons + "I'm allergic to you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby!Fitzsimmons AU
> 
> Anti-Space Boyfriend

“No! Stay away! I’m allergic to you!”

Yes, it was a poor excuse, but Will, the popular boy in the class, just couldn’t seem to take no for an answer. She hastily stepped backwards to purposefully put some distance between them.

“That’s stupid!” Will laughed. “A person can’t be allergic to another person!”

“Can so!” Jemma defended, crossing her arms across her chest. “You can be allergic to a number of biological things, like saliva, hair and skin. Well, not exactly those things but what’s on or in them-”

“Oh, blah, blah blah!” Will interrupted, stamping his foot impatiently. “You’re just making that up!”

“I am not!”

“Are so!”

“Am not!”

“Are so!”

“Am not!”

“Are-”

“If she says she is, she is!” a voice interrupted from behind. Jemma turned to see the loner of the class standing there, looking angrily at Will. 

“Oh and what do you know?” Will said crossly. “You’re just the loser who sits alone in the back of class!”

“No, actually, I’m the genius who sits alone in the back of class,” he corrected. “And Jemma’s right - it’s quite possible to be allergic to another human. So unless you want to be responsible for her death, which by the way is a legitimate result of an allergic reaction, I suggest you leave her alone.”

As he spoke, he moved forward so that by the time he was finished speaking, he was inches from Will’s face. His fists were curled up by his sides, and Jemma feared that if Will didn’t leave, they’d all be in detention for inappropriate behaviour. 

“Whatever,” Will muttered after a long moment of silence, turning away. “You two losers go be losers together.”

He stalked off, and Jemma let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. The boy who had stood up for her put his hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” She nodded.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

He shrugged. “Yes, I did. Boys like Will have to learn to leave a girl alone when she wants to be left alone.”

Jemma couldn’t help but smile a bit. She liked this boy. Even better, he smiled back. _And_  his smile was quite pretty. All good qualities, her mother had told her. 

“I’m Jemma,” she introduced, suddenly breaking the silence.

“Fitz.” There was a short pause before, “were you being serious about being allergic to him?”

Jemma shook her head and giggled. “I just made it up because boys like Will have to learn to leave a girl alone when she wants to be left alone.”

Fitz grinned at her. “I think I really like you, Jemma. Can we be friends?”

"I think I’d like that. Just as long as I’m not allergic to you.”


	39. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bus kids Russian Revolution AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for aosficnet's M is for March challenge
> 
>  **Content warning:** Violence

“Jemma! Hey, Jemma! Wake up!”

Jemma rolls over and is greeted by the face of her younger sister, Daisy, wearing both an excited and scared expression.

“What is it, Daisy?” she groans tiredly. Daisy tugs at Jemma’s pyjamas and points to the window.

“Look outside.”

Jemma’s heart leaps to her throat, and she hurries over, expecting the worst. The protests have been growing rapidly in the last few days, already with a few reports of violence. She expects to see blood everywhere, perhaps even a couple of heads rolling down the street.

She flings open the window and is relieved to see none of that. Instead, it’s just another large group of people, although her concern does return when she sees a few armed people. But she refuses to assume the worst at this point. 

“Hey, Jemma!”

Jemma looks directly down and grins when she sees her best friend, Fitz, standing right below her window. She waves, and he returns it, before gesturing towards himself.

“Come on! Get dressed! Let’s get a closer look!”

Jemma glances hesitantly at the mob and then back down at Fitz. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Nothing’s been safe since Bloody Sunday!” Fitz replies with a wave of his hand. “That’s what my mum says, anyway. Plus, we don’t have to go in - I don’t want to go in! We can just stand on the hill.”

He points behind him to the hill just past the factory. Jemma pulls her lips to one side. She  _ would _ like to go, and see a revolution up close; it would be the perfect learning opportunity. But, at the same time, she wonders whether it’s a wise idea. After all, they’d have to actually go through the throng to reach the hill and that could be dangerous.

“Can we, Jemma?” Daisy asks from beside her. “Please? I’ve always wanted to see a revolution up close!”

“You didn’t know what a revolution  _ was _ until two weeks ago!” Jemma snaps, shaking her head. There is no way she’s letting her little sister out there, it’s too risky. She turns back to Fitz with a sad look on her face.

“I’m sorry, Fitz. It’s simply too risky.”

Fitz lowers his gaze, and then raises it again, mirroring her expression. “I guess you’re right. You know how I can be, I get a bit carried away.” 

“And you also hate change,” Jemma muses. “What changed your mind?”

“The tsar is horrible,” he answers without missing a beat. “He’s been responsible for too many deaths and he’s quenched our freedom and-”

Jemma can’t help but laugh. But it’s not the mean-spirited sort of laugh to make someone feel bad; it’s the kind of laugh you laugh when you’re feeling incredibly happy. 

“There’s the Fitz I know and care about.”

He smiles at her, and then his head whips around when there’s a scream. He sees red, but not red the protesters are wearing. It’s blood. He turns back to Jemma, whose eyes are also wide.

“Daisy, go back to bed,” she instructs calmly.

“But-”

“I said go.”

Daisy huffs, but obeys her older sister. Jemma then glances out at the protest, rapidly becoming more violent. Her brow crinkles in worry - this is exactly what she had been afraid of.

“Jemma?” Fitz calls from below. “Help?”

Jemma’s heart drops. Fitz is out there, and as long as he’s outside, he’s too close to the violence. The doors don’t open for another hour at least. She frantically skims the room and quickly spies some rope in the corner.

“Hold on!” she says, grabbing the rope. She ties it around the metal hook attached to the wall, meant for her towel, and then drops the rope out the window. She beckons for him to come, and watches as he begins climbing. 

Out along the road, the protestors are spreading, taking their violence with them. It’s mostly the men who flood along the streets, killing anyone who stands in their way. The women who are out, particularly the mothers with children, are falling back, becoming afraid of what might happen to them if they find themselves on the wrong side of the path.

As the men sweep the streets and come closer and closer to where Jemma lives, she grows more anxious. Fitz is good at climbing, but isn’t exactly the fastest.

“Come on, Fitz!” she urges. “Hurry!”

“I’m trying!” he responds, pulling himself up as fast as he could. Jemma wants to bite her nails to calm her nerves, but she’d get an awful scolding if that happened.

Just as the protestors pour into her street, Fitz makes it to the top. She uses all her might to pull him over and in and hurriedly pulls the rope back up, and just in time as some of the men jump to grab it. 

She slams the window shut and lets out a breath of relief. In her doorway stands Daisy, wide eyes, clutching her teddy bear.

“Jemma?”

“Daisy, I told you to go back to bed.”

Daisy just shakes her head and runs to her big sister for a hug. She’s scared, and Jemma is too. She holds Daisy tight, and Fitz holds Jemma tight in his arms. The three stay there for a long, long while, not daring to move, for fear that one movement may bring death. 

They stay there so long that by the time the noise from the protest has moved on, the sun is high in the sky; long past the time they should have been at school.. But Jemma suspects that school is cancelled today anyway, because of the protests. 

“What happens now?” Daisy asks in a voice so soft that it almost didn’t break the silence. Jemma sighs.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s scary not knowing,” Daisy says, before letting out a choked sob. Jemma rubs her back comforting, hushing her.

“Yeah, it is,” Fitz agrees, making both girls look at him. “But we have each other. And we’re going to get through this like we always do. Together.”

Daisy nods and Jemma gives him a grateful smile. He’s right, they’re going to make it through this. Together.

 


	40. Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prequel of sorts to the previous chapter (because BookedByFandoms begged and threatened me to). 
> 
> Russian Revolution AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** This isn’t entirely historically accurate, because the women were protesting food shortages rather than women’s rights, but I got a bit carried away with the story. Oopsie.

Drowning. She can’t breathe. Her whole body is being crushed.

Jemma opens her eyes, and is mildly surprised to find herself in her own room. Then why can’t she breathe? The answer comes in the form of her sister’s voice.

“Jemma! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!!”

She pushes Daisy off and takes a deep breath in, before glaring at her. “Are you trying to kill me? Don’t suffocate me like that!”

Daisy takes a second to frown apologetically before grinning again. She bounces back up, almost landing on Jemma’s arm.

“It’s the march today!” She tugs at her big sister’s sleeve. “Come on! Come on! Come oooonnnnnn!!!! We have to get ready!!”

Jemma blinks twice. “Wait, it’s today?”

Daisy’s head bobs up and down excitedly and then she suddenly stops and frowns. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

“No! Of course not! I just forgot that it was today!” She throws back her covers. “Come on! Let’s get ready!”

The two run around quietly, getting ready to go out. When they’re all dressed and their hair is done to the best of a twelve-year-old’s ability, they peer out the window. The streets are already beginning to fill with women, and they exchange excited grins.

They close the window and quietly hurry down the stairs, as not to awake their parents and anyone else still sleeping. Jemma lets out an ‘oof’ as she quite literally runs into Mrs Mikhailov. 

“Good morning children!” she greets with a bright smile. “Off to the march, are you?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Daisy says, almost jumping up and down with excitement. “Are you going, too?”

“You bet your sweet little smile I am!” she says. “Would you like to march with me?”

Jemma thinks about the offer for a moment. It could be quite good, marching with someone they know. Plus, it’d be a surefire way to make sure they don’t get lost. She nods.

“That’d be lovely!”

“Excellent! Just keep a tight hold of my skirt or hand. Don’t want you two lovely young ones to get lost out there!”

Jemma takes her hand, and Daisy grabs onto Jemma’s hand. Together, the three of them head down out of the building and onto the street, slipping into the crowd. Jemma thinks it’s wonderful, thousands of women walking together in protest. It’s kind of like a ginormous girls’ club, working together for a common cause. 

Daisy, too, is getting caught up in the event, although she is a little bit nervous. All the ladies around her are grown up and she’s just a little girl. She hopes that they’re all nice and would help her if she got lost. Daisy assumes they’re nice - they’re all wearing very pretty skirts.

Jemma strikes up a conversation with a woman walking next to them, and Daisy sighs to herself. She wishes she could be as brave as Jemma is. 

“She your sister?” the lady Jemma’s talking to asks. Daisy looks up.

“Yep. She’s Daisy. Daisy, this is Antonina.”

Antonina is older, but not as old as some of the other ladies. “Hi, Daisy. You’re quite a beautiful little girl.”

“Thanks,” Daisy says shyly, ducking her head. 

“Awww, she’s adorable!” she hears Antonina gush. Jemma laughs, and pulls her hand free of Daisy’s to go with Antonina.

“Yeah, some of the time.”

Daisy tunes out, not wanting to hear. Jemma’s become a bit of a bore, lately, she thinks, getting into all the girly things grown up girls are into. They never run around, or climb trees together anymore. Daisy misses it, and she lets out a sad sigh thinking about it.

“What’s the matter, love?” Mrs Mikhailov asks.

“Nothing.”

“I’ve seen you when nothing is the matter! You’re running about, causing a ruckus! Now, tell me, love.”

“‘S just Jemma,” Daisy says crossly, kicking a rock gently with her foot. “She’s into grown up girly things these days and it’s gross, and I don’t like her that much anymore.”

“Aw, now, sweetie,” Mrs Mikhailov sympathises. “There’s nothing wrong with grown up girly things, like wanting to get dressed up nice. Jemma’s just growing up - you don’t really mean that about not liking her.  _ I _ think you just miss her a little bit.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Daisy says with a sad shrug. Mrs Mikhailov pats her head.

“Don’t worry, love, you’ll have caught up to her in no time, and then you can both enjoy grown up girly things together. You’ll see.”

Daisy smiles and nods, although doubts it a bit. They both fall back into silence and keep walking. They walk for what feels like ages, and Daisy’s feet begin to hurt. She stumbles a little bit.

“Your feet hurting, love?”

“A little bit.”

Without a word, Mrs Mikhailov bends down and scoops Daisy up in her arms. Daisy’s not that heavy -she’s only seven and doesn’t get a lot of food, so she’s quite light. She adjusts herself on Mrs Mikhailov’s hip and puts a hand on her shoulder. She can see much better now, and can see just how many women there are. She starts to feel quite thrilled. 

“There are so many of them!” Daisy breathes, bringing her thumb up to her mouth. She may be a big girl now, but she’s having a bit of trouble breaking the habit of thumb sucking. 

“Do you know why there are so many of them?” Daisy shakes her head. “Because there are so many who believe that girls are just as good as men.”

“There are people who don’t?” Daisy furrows her brow. That doesn’t sound right.

“Sadly, yes. Most of them are men, but there are some women, too.”

“That’s mean of them!” Daisy decides. “I’m as good as any boy! Why would other women not think that we’re not?”

“Yes you are!” Mrs Mikhailov chuckles. “The women who don’t think so are those who simply blindly accept what they were taught as children by their parents.

“But Mother and Father have never ever told me that boys are better than girls!”

“Children used to be told that,” Mrs Mikhailov says sadly. “Sometimes still are. Glad your parents aren’t teaching you that rubbish! You’re too lively to be taught such things.”

Daisy rests her head on Mrs Mikhailov’s shoulder. The sun is rising in the sky - it’s midmorning now. She hopes her parents aren’t too upset that they snuck out to join the march. She yawns; they’d been up before dawn so that they could join in.

Time passes, and by the time the sun is very, very high in the sky, around midday, the women arrived at Nevsky Prospekt. Daisy lifted her head and looked around for Jemma. She could see her just over the head of another lady, holding Antonina’s hand. 

All around her, women are raising their signs. Daisy didn’t have a sign, and she wishes she’d made one. Jemma’s getting to share Antonina’s sign. 

“Do you have a sig, Mrs Mikhailov?” Daisy asks. Mrs Mikhailov smiles.

“Afraid not, love. Didn’t have much time to make one.” Daisy sighs. “Chin up, love. We don’t need signs. Just being here is enough.”

“But don’t you need a sign to protest?”

“No. Just being present as a protest will tell the people we’re protesting against that we don’t like what they’re doing.”

Daisy nods. She likes the idea that just being there is enough. She rests her head against Mrs Mikhailov’s shoulder again.

“Daisy! Put this on!” Jemma instructs, reaching back to pass Daisy her hat that Jemma was carrying in her bag. Daisy pouted.

“But I don’t wanna!”

“Oh come off it!” Jemma snaps. “Just put it on!”

Daisy begrudgingly takes it, but just holds it; she doesn’t put it on. 

“You really ought to listen to your sister,” Mrs Mikhailov tsks, taking the hat and putting it on Daisy’s head. “We don’t want your beautiful hair to get damaged by the sun.”

Daisy’s pout grows but she doesn’t fight it. After all, Mrs Mikhailov knows what she’s doing, and it’s best if Daisy doesn’t argue with her. She watches as the women chant and shout and hold their signs, and it’s all a bit overwhelming for Daisy.

“A bit much for you, dear?” Mrs Mikhailov asks, and Daisy nods, covering her ears. Mrs Mikhailov bounces Daisy a little bit, while they wait for the women speaking to get up on the platform. Once they’re up. The noise dies down so that people can hear what’s being said. There’s a microphone up on the platform, so the people further back can also hear what’s being said. They’re right near the front, so it’s a bit loud for her, but she’s mostly okay with that - she’s used to loud noises.

Daisy squirms a little bit, and tries to reach out to touch Jemma. “Jemma? Jemma! Jem-ma!”

“What?” Jemma hisses, whirling around to face her. 

“I’m hungry,” Daisy says simply, holding out her hand expectantly. She’d not had any breakfast and so her tummy was rumbling like a giant whale. Jemma gives her the sandwich she’d packed the night before, and Daisy grins at the sight of it.

“Thank you!” Jemma turns back around, wanting to hear what was being said. Daisy, on the other hand, feels a bit little to understand what’s being said. Instead, she just munches happily on her sandwich. Soon, she’s finished it and she lets out a little burp of satisfaction, and then giggles. To her great delight, Mrs Mikhailov giggles along, taking her paper bag from her and putting it in her bag.

She goes back to resting her head on Mrs Mikhailov’s shoulder, and begins to doze off, when an attention is called to her. She sits up.

“Hmmm?” she murmurs sleepily.

“They’re asking you to come up and tell everyone why you came today,” Mrs Mikhailov explained with a bright smile. “A bunch of others have already been up. Do you want to go up?”

Daisy glances at Jemma who nods and gives her an encouraging smile. She gives a little shrug to Mrs Mikhailov.

“Okay.” 

Mrs Mikhailov hoists her up onto the stage, and some of the ladies up there help her, too. One of the ladies motions to the microphone. Daisy steps up to it and then looks at the lady.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Just tell us why you came today.” 

“I came today because I like being a girl.”

“And why do you like being a girl.” The lady is now kneeling at her height and Daisy tilts her head, thinking for a moment before answering.

“Because it’s fun. Girls get to have pretty hair, and get to be the smartest in class, and wear overalls, and be someone’s sister - which is really, really, really, really cool - and you get to climb trees, and you get to have girl’s clubs which are the best thing in the world, and you get to be friends with other girls and it’s just really, really nice being a girl.”

The crowd cheered. The lady beside her smiled.

“And what do you say to those who think that being a girl isn’t fun, and that girls aren’t as good as boys?”

“I say those people are dumb. I can be just as good as any boy is! I can actually climb trees better than most of the boys in my class, so anyone who says that boys are better than girls is just dumb. Plus, without girls you can’t have any kids, because only girls can get the storks to come and give you kids. So there!”

The crowd cheered and laughed again. Mrs Mikhailov took her back in her arms. Once the cheering had died down, Daisy opened her mouth again.

“Why was everyone cheering me?”

“Because they agree with what you said, love.”

“Cool!” Daisy had never had her whole class agree with what she was saying, let alone thousands upon thousands of people. It feels quite nice.

“Well done, Daisy,” Jemma says with a grin. Daisy grins back.

“You wanna know my favourite thing about being a girl?” Jemma nods. “It’s that I get to be your sister. And I think that’s pretty cool.”

Jemma rolls her eyes, but there’s a bit smile plastered on her face. She reaches back for Daisy’s hand and gives it a squeeze.

“I like being your sister, too.”


	41. Something Magnificent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Anniversary date at the planetarium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For lostgirl996

“Fitz!” Jemma giggled. “This is silly!”

“You’re silly!” he retorted playfully, giving her hand a bit of a squeeze. “Do you want to ruin the surprise?”

“Yes! I dressed for a casual date...five times actually.”

Fitz gaped. Even with her eyes closed so that he couldn’t see her amazingly coloured irises, she still looked like a goddess to him. He felt rather inadequate in his simple t-shirt and jeans standing next to her. 

“Five times?” 

“I’m not overly good at casual dates,” Jemma said with the tiniest of smiles. Just then, she stumbled a bit over an uneven piece of ground. Fitz caught her.

“Easy. Okay you can open your eyes in three...two...one...now.”

Jemma opened her eyes. She was standing in front of the Planetarium - her favourite place to go as a child, and even as an adult. Her jaw dropped and her lips curled into a ginormous smile. She turned to Fitz, who was grinning shyly. She threw her arms around him.

“Oh, Ftiz! This is wonderful!”

“Yeah, well I thought we ought to do something special,” he said, returning the hug. “Since it is our first anniversary since we, um, you know, did that thing…”

“You mean since we had sex?” Jemma teased, pulling back. He bounced nervously on his toes, looking down.

“Um, yeah, that thing.” 

He was so adorable when he couldn’t say the word sex. Very much like a human puppy, Jemma thought. But she pushed that thought aside; it was time to go in. 

“Come on! What are we waiting for?” 

She grabbed his hand and led him inside. They spent the next few hours looking at all the exhibits, and he spent those hours listening to Jemma go on and on about it. But he didn’t mind; her voice was his favourite sound.

They eventually came to the constellations exhibit, and Jemma immediately put her bag down and laid on her back to stare up at the ceiling. Fitz took of his jacket, put it on the ground and laid down next to her. In the darkness, he found her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers.

“It’s fascinating, Fitz,” Jemma murmured softly. “To think that stars are so far away that by the time we see them, they’re already dead.”

“I must be pretty lucky, then.”

“Huh?” Jemma turned her head to face him. “What’s that got to do with stars?”

“To think that I have my own star right here,” he said softly, reaching up with his other hand to caress her cheek. “That I don’t have to admire her from afar. That I get to see her beauty right in front of me. And hold her hand.”

“Oh Fitz!” Jemma giggled, placing her free hand on top of his. Fitz smiled. He loved the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, and the way a slight dimple emerged when she was really happy. He sighed contentedly. There’s nowhere he’d rather be. 

“I think I’m pretty lucky, too,” Jemma said after she’d stopped giggling. She returned the caressing gesture. “To have you.”

Fitzsimmons simultaneously leaned their heads closer until their foreheads were touching. Her eyes were so much more beautiful up close, and her lips looked like they were made from the very dust of stars themselves. 

“Who needs space, right?” Jemma whispered, a cheeky smile dancing on her lips. Fitz nodded and let out a breathy laugh.

“We’ve got something magnificent right here.”


	42. Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: "Would you believe" + "no X challenge" (in which x's are not allowed to be used)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this post: http://hemnalini.tumblr.com/post/166124335237/children-are-wild
> 
> Written for the M is for March challenge

Ms May’s head snapped up as a small stuffed crocodile landed in the paint. She narrowed her eyes, scanning the back of the classroom for the guilty party, or parties. The children seemed to not know who had done it, since they went on with their activities as if nothing had happened.

She picked up the crocodile and watched a moment longer, scrutinising the children’s movement. She quickly narrowed it down to three: Daisy Johnson, Elena Rodriguez and Lincoln Campbell. She walked calmly up to them.

“Johnson. Rodriguez. Campbell.” 

All three children looked up, all looking perfectly innocent. May did her best not to narrow her eyes again; she knew just how “innocent” these little ones were.

“Who threw the crocodile?”

Their answers all came in the form of shrugs. She did her best not to sigh.

“Toys away. Now.” The three of them knew better than to argue and so did what they were told. May then pointed to the TIme Out corner. “You sit there for five minutes to reflect on your behaviour.”

Daisy, Elena and Lincoln went quietly, sitting down cross-legged, their gazes on the floor. May nodded to herself before turning her attention back to the other children in the classroom. After five minutes, she returned to the group of five-year-olds and knelt down to their height. She held up the crocodile.

“So. Who did it?”

“It was Sam, miss,” Daisy answered without missing a beat. May raised her eyebrows.

“There’s nobody named Sam in this class.”

“Yes, there is!” Elena joined in. “He sits with Grant.”

May turned her head. It wasn’t that she believed them, but she still wanted to see who was sitting beside Grant. She saw Billy Koenig sitting there, painting away happily. She licked her lips slowly and then turned back to the kids.

“That’s Billy. Not Sam.”

“Sam’s his twin brother,” Lincoln said calmly. “The two always switch classrooms when you’re not looking. So, right now, Sam’s in the other class, and Billy has taken his place.”

“Smart, really,” Elena interjected thoughtfully. “Switching around to make sure you don’t get into trouble.”

Even though she  _ knew _ they were lying, May couldn’t help but find that she was actually starting to have doubts about her certainty. She eyed each one closely, looking as guiltless as deer. 

“Daisy?” She wiggled the crocodile slowly, and Daisy shook her head.

“Sam did it.”

“Elena?”

“We all saw it! It was Sam! It wasn’t me!”

“Lincoln?”

“They’re telling the truth. It was Sam.”

May paused a moment, contemplating what to do. These kids were smart, and gutsy, risking such a lie. If she was totally honest, she kind of admired them. Nevertheless, she knew they still had to be punished - throwing things across the room was a No-No and they knew that. 

She eventually decided to send them to the principal - let him deal with them. She told them this and they all protested.

“But, miss! It was Sam, not us!” 

She just shook her head and sent them off with Miss Crawford, helping her out with the children. They begrudgingly went, and May allowed her a small smile at their antics, especially when she just caught Elena’s comment muttered under her breath.

“I told you we should have named him after someone in this class!”


	43. Upon A Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Things you said at 1 am"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of the Sun Dragon/Asthmatic Daisy verse. This time, it's Bioquake's turn to shine (pun fully intentional)

“Did you know that stars are so far away that by the tie we see them they’re already dead?”

“Wait, stars die?” Daisy furrowed her brow and adjusted her head on her new friend’s shoulder.

“Everything dies, Daisy,” Jemma replied, letting her arm loop lazily around Daisy. 

“Not everything!” Daisy retorted, almost sitting up, but not quite because she was too tired to. Jemma giggled a bit at the passion in Daisy’s voice. 

“Daisy-”

“No, Jemma!” Daisy interrupted. “Not everything dies. The Sun Dragon never dies.”

“The Sun Dragon?” Daisy turned her head to look at Jemma. She wondered how someone a few years older than her had no idea of what the Sun Dragon was. 

“The Sun Dragon is a dragon that sucks up energy from the sun,” she explained with little hand gestures. “And then she comes to the hospital and breathes on all the children to make them better. That’s why I never get asthma up here, ‘coz the roof is the only place she can land. She can’t fit inside, ‘coz she’s too big.”

Jemma pondered Daisy’s words for a minute. She knew that by all laws of science, nature and reality that it was impossible. But she still couldn’t help but hope that it was real. She closed her eyes and sighed.

“If that’s true, why do you keep having to come back to the hospital?” Jemma asked softly. “I mean, if she does make you better, why do you keep getting sick?”

“’Coz the orphanage is too small for her to land,” Daisy sighed softly. Jemma opened her eyes again and stared at the stars in the sky above her. She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. So instead, she just gave Daisy a small squeeze.

The two girls lay there in silence, just looking at the stars, until Daisy spoke. 

“I think the Sun Dragon lives on a star.”

“Hmm?” 

“The Sun Dragon,” Daisy repeated. “I think she lives on a star.”

Jemma opened her mouth to contradict that point; that it would be impossible for a creature to live on a star because stars were made entirely out of gas. But she caught her tongue just in time. It was better, she thought, to simply let Daisy live her fantasy.

“Hey, Daisy?” Jemma asked after a moment’s silence.

“Yeah?”

“How come people never see the Sun Dragon? I mean, if it comes to the roof of the hospital, surely they’d see it flying over the city.”

"You have to believe to see,” Daisy said with a sigh. “And a lot of people don’t, so they never do.”

“But you have?” Daisy nodded, smiling a little.

“I see her every day.”

Jemma let out a breathy chuckle, then went back to staring at the stars. She’d almost dozed off when she heard Daisy’s soft whisper from beside her.

“That one looks like a dragon.”


	44. The Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: They've been planning it the whole time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brooklyn Nine-Nine's "Halloween", AOS style

“Sir?”

Coulson looked up at the sound of a knock and Jemma’s voice.

“Sorry to interrupt, but some agents just arrested Daisy.”

“What?” He furrowed his brow. What could she have possibly-

“They caught her scaling the side of the building with a blowtorch.”

Coulson sighed, setting down his pen. This game had definitely gone too far, and it was time to end it.

“Where is she now?”

“The interrogation room.”

He brushed past Jemma and hastened to the interrogation room. Planning a heist was one thing; causing an explosion was another. What was she thinking?

He opened the door and watched as Daisy dramatically raised her head, smirking smugly. She was wearing all black (which wasn’t a big surprise, she often did), but what threw him off was the black beanie she was wearing. Since when did she accessorize with headgear indoors?

“Coulson,” she greeted, her tone as satisfied as her smirk. “Welcome to the endgame.”

Coulson said nothing. He couldn’t even think of what emotion he ought to portray on his face, he was so confused.

“Care to shake the hand of the woman who defeated you?” she asked, standing up and stretching out her arm for a handshake, only to be stopped short by the cuffs, joining her to the table.

She fell back in her chair with a slight wince. ‘Oh, yeah. Handcuffs. I forgot about those, and boy did that hurt!”

Coulson entered silently, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat opposite her. 

“Scaling the side of the building with a blowtorch, what were you thinking?” Coulson questioned, refraining from shaking his head in disbelief. In his experience, Daisy could be crazy sometimes, but never _this_  crazy. She had to have known the other agents would react the way they did.

"That I had amazing core body strength,” she joked. “But ten feet is quite a way up.”

“I knew you wouldn’t win the bet,” Coulson said, his Disappointed Tone starting to seep into his words. “But your…performance tonight has made me question how good of an agent you are!”

It was a bit harsh, but it was true. Daisy knew how to avoid detection; how to slip through a building quietly and efficiently, _without_  getting caught. To have made such a blunder as to get caught so badly made him question how well she’d actually learnt.

“Ooh,” she hissed playfully. “That’s cold, AC.”

She smiled to herself at the pun and Coulson couldn’t help but roll his eyes. So she’d learnt the art of punning adequately; that was something. But that still didn’t explain her utter lack of skill tonight. He had a brief moment of panic where he wondered if she’d forgotten everything they’d taught her. 

“You have five minutes until your deadline,” Coulson said, leaning in and folding his hands in the center of the table. “And here you are, cuffed to a table, in a locked room.”

“Which is precisely where I planned on being.” She grinned triumphantly, also leaning in and folding her hands together at chin height. “Coulson, lemme tell you a little story. Do you remember when I fell through your ceiling?”

“Yes. That was six hours ago.”

“It was, I admit, a disastrous failure,” Daisy said mournfully, looking down at the table. “But! It gave me the idea for Peggy, the friendly janitor you met. And yes, naming her Peggy was Jemma’s idea.”

“With Peggy, I commenced the perfect crime.” Her wicked little grin returned as she spoke, and she unfolded her hands to gesture.

“I caught you as Peggy,” he reminded her.

“Yes, but you didn’t catch Bobbi. As it turns out, she is _great_  at picking locks.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

"Yeah, me neither. She’s an actual James Bond chic. Anyway, of course, I had to find a way to get her out of your office, without you seeing her. So, I created a diversion - not mistimed; perfectly timed, so she could escape unseen.”

"What about the pigeons?” Coulson asked, not really wanting to admit the genius of her plan. 

“Oh the gray pigeons? They were a red herring. Their only purpose was to draw you into the lab while two of my team members broke into your locked office. They unlocked the window, so now I had a way into your office, _and_  an open cabinet. All that was left was for the black swans to steal your keys.”

“Yes, but you didn’t need the keys,” Coulson pointed out. “The cabinet was already unlocked! You needed a way into the safe.”

“And I got it. You were so concerned about getting your keys back, you didn’t even notice Mack swipe your phone. Yes, that’s right. Even _Mack_  is on my side. I then had Fitz dust your phone screen for prints; the greasiest smudges revealed the four numbers you use the most: the four numbers in your pass code. And given your…old _er_  age, I assumed you would use the same pass code for everything - your phone, your computer, and of course-”

“My safe,” he finished. “But I’m not that old!”

“Didn’t say you were, sir,” Daisy said, flashing him an award-winning smile. “You don’t look a day over forty.”

Coulson rolled his eyes again, and Daisy took that as her cue to finish her story. 

“It was at that point that I bumped into Agent Piper, rocking an _adorable_  Mushu outfit. Apparently her and May co-ordinated.”

“What’s that got to do with the plan?”

“Oh it doesn’t,” she said cheerfully. “I just thought it was too cute to keep to myself. And that brings us to five minutes ago, when Jemma came into your office and told you I had been arrested. I knew she was the only one you would believe, because, frankly, she’s a bit of a goody-two-shoes when it comes to you. 

“And as you came over here, Fitz awkwardly stuffed himself through your window, and opened your safe. We had the four numbers of your code, which meant there were twenty-four possible combinations for Fitz to try. That could take up to four minutes, which is why I dragged out this explanation. Like, really, _really_  stretched it out. I don’t know if you noticed, but there were times where I was like, ‘what am I even talking about? This isn’t’-”

Daisy’s watch beeping cut her off and she grinned, glancing down at it and shutting the alarm off. 

“But, now, four minutes is up. Which means: Fitz is either on the other side of that door, holding your toy model of Lola, or I’ve lost.”

She folded her hands again and rested them on the table, waiting as Coulson got up to open the door. As soon as the door opened, Fitz, holding the toy model, began talking.

“Well, sir, looks like you’ve just been bested by your own team.”

Coulson took it off him and closed the door, staring at it in disbelief. Daisy held up her watch to her face.

“Twenty seconds to spare! Game over, sir. _Checkmate_.”

“How did you get everyone to help you?” Coulson asked. 

“I appealed to their sense of teamwork and friendship in a rousing speech I gave, that would put Shakespeare to shame, I dare say.”

“And that worked?”

"No, no, not at all!” Daisy laughed. “So, I bribed them, and offered to do all their paperwork for the next month if we pulled this off. And since _you’re_  doing all my paperwork for the next month…”

“I’m impressed, Daisy,” Coulson admitted. “Well done.”

“Thank you, sir!”

“I have one final question,” Coulson said, ignoring the fact that his pride had just been severely wounded.

“Yes, sir?”

“Did your outfit have any part in the plan?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. These clothes just made me look hella fine.”

Her smug smile stretched so far across her face, Coulson had to repress the childish urge to wish for it to split her face in half. Instead, he nodded, turned and left the room, Fitz chattering after him.

“Coulson?” Daisy called after him, leaning forward and pulling her arms up so that the chain was taut. “Sir? Sir? You gonna let me out, or…?”

Coulson appeared again at the door. He said nothing, only reached in and closed the door. Daisy pulled her lips into a tight line, and she rested her fist inside her palm.

“Okay, then.”


	45. Remember Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Framework May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to philindas

“Melinda, please.”

May gives him a warning look. She’s not going to succumb to whatever mind games he’s playing.

“My name is May.”

“Yeah, Melinda May,” he quips, earning him a rough kick to the upper thigh. He winces. “Please, Melinda, you gotta remember me.”

“Never knew you,” she answers. “So how can I remember?”

“Because we knew each other!” he cried, holding out his hands weakly. “We were in love. We...we…”

He trails off and sighs,, hanging his head. “I just need you remember me, Lin.”

May almost flinches as an image flashes through her mind. It’s distant, like a dream within a dream, of where she had been called that. And it’s the very same voice that she heard now. She shakes her head once, as if it might fling the memory out and shatter it against the wall. 

She gives the prisoner another kick, eliciting a small cry of pain. 

“Why do I need to remember you?” she questions. He looks up at her, directly into her dark brown eyes.

“Because you mean a lot to me.”

May has to try not to stumble backwards as another memory clawed its way to the surface. Although this one is longer than the last one, almost like a short scene from a movie. 

“Phil?”

The word slips out as soft as a summer’s breeze and longingly like a thirsty traveller in the desert. She sees his eyes sparkle hopefully.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put this together in like 5 mins pls don't judge


	46. Give Me Faith, I Pray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set between 4x20 and 4x21. Elena deals with the emotions of losing Mack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Guess who has escaped the "framework" (ie: SCHOOL) and is now back in the "real world" (ie: I WROTE SOMETHING GUYS!!!)
> 
> Many thanks to Florchis for helping me with the Spanish stuff. Translations in {} as needed.

_Why, Lord, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?_

It’s hard to realise God is with you in the tough times, Elena thinks. A lot of the time, your own grief overtakes your ability to see. And all you can do is weep, and cry out to God, desperately trying to hang onto that sliver of faith that he can hear you, and that he cares.

“¿Por qué, Dios? ¿Por qué lo alejarías de mí? Estaba tan segura de que él era el indicado para mí... ¿por qué negármelo así?”

{Why, God? Why would you keep him from me? I was so sure he was the one....why tell me ‘no’ like this?}

 

 

_In his arrogance the wicked man hunts down the weak, who are caught in the schemes he devises. He boasts about the cravings of his heart; he blesses the greedy and reviles the Lord. In his pride the wicked man does not seek him; in all his thoughts there is no room for God. His ways are always prosperous; your laws are rejected him him; he sneers at all his enemies._

“This is all Radcliffe’s fault,” Elena mutters, breaking her prayer. She suddenly feels angry. Angry that he should create this evil; angry that it should spiral into chaos. Angry that he would _betray_ them all so deeply.

Elena picks up a cushion and hurtles it at the closed door.

 

 

_He says to himself, “Nothing will ever shake me.” He swears, “No one will ever do me harm.” His mouth is full of lies and threats; trouble and evil are under his tongue. He lies in wait near the villages; from ambush he murders the innocent._

She sinks back down onto her knees, the weight of her burden crushing her. She feels helpless, angry, alone, afraid, and brokenhearted. All she can do is cry. She can’t even find the strength or words to pray.

“Dame fuerza para orar, Señor,” she prays silently in her heart. “Dame fuerza para conservar mi fe."

{"Give me the faith to pray, Lord"//"Give me the strength to hold onto my faith."}

She sits in silence a while, until her tears start to dry up. She feels numb. Not angry anymore, even though she wants to be; simply numb. Like there’s nothing left in her. She’s only felt this way twice (including this time), and both times it felt surreal, as if she weren’t even in her own body.

She wonders if that’s kind of what it felt like for AIDA. Wanting to have conscious free will, and yet being trapped in a body that wasn’t entirely hers.

She shakes her head abruptly, brushing away some of the numbness along with it. She would _not_ give AIDA any sympathy. Not after what she did to her friends, to her….

Elena can’t even finish the thought. She picks up the other cushion (it was sold in a pair with the other thrown cushion) and throws it in the same direction as the other pillow in an attempt to relieve some of her anger.

It doesn’t work.

 

 

_His eyes watch in secret for his victims; like a lion in cover he lies in wait. He lies in wait to catch the helpless; he catches the helpless and drags them off in his net. His victims are crushed, they collapse; they fall under his strength. He says to himself, “God will never notice; he covers his face and never sees.”_

She takes a few short breaths, wanting to cry again, but being unable to. She’s simultaneously exhausted and almost overwhelmed with anger. She doesn’t know what to do.

It’s in that moment that her Bible, sitting on her nightstand, catches her eye. She sighs to herself. Usually, she enjoys reading and meditating on the Bible, but when she’s in an emotionally unstable state, it feels like a chore to simply reach over and grab it. Plus, she’s only human; she doesn’t particularly want Scripture recited at her in times like these. She’d much rather hear sympathies from others, or hear about her anger was justified.

Still, something inside her compels her to pick up the Bible. It was weak, but it was enough to get it into her lap. She stares down at it, unsure where to open to. She doesn’t have the energy to think through what she wants to read.

So, on an impulse, Elena finds herself turning to the Psalms. Perhaps it was the times in the past where the Psalms had been comforting. Perhaps it was the poetic nature of the Psalms. Perhaps it was because most of them were relatively short. Whatever the reason, Elena finds herself in Psalm 10 and begins to read.

“Arise, Lord!” Elena reads aloud, albeit softly. She’d gotten into the habit during the mourning of her cousin’s death. Somehow, it felt more powerful when it was spoken out loud, even if it was barely more than a whisper.

“Lift up your hand, O God. Do not forget the helpless. Why does the wicked man revile God? Why does he say to himself, ‘He won’t call me to account’? But you, God, see the trouble of the afflicted; you consider their grief and take it in hand. The victims commit themselves to you; you are the helper of the fatherless.”

Elena pauses, becoming choked up by emotion. Hope was the reason he stayed. It was selfish of her to ask Hope to be left without a father. Elena doubts that God exists in the Framework. After all, it was built by a robot and all the people inside were code; it was essentially just a computer, and Elena doesn’t think that God exists inside computers. Sure, he can make a computer miraculously work, but being inside a computer is a bit of stretch, Elena thinks.

She swallows hard and continues reading, a bit louder this time. “Break the arm of the wicked man; call the evildoer to account for his wickedness that would not otherwise be found out. The Lord is King for ever and ever; the nations will perish from his land. You, Lord, hear the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, defending the fatherless and the oppressed, so that mere earthly mortals will never again strike in terror.”

She lifts her head from where she has just finished reading. Although her heart hasn’t suddenly healed, and the grief hasn’t suddenly lifted, she feels as if a part of her load has been taken from her, and it feels just a little bit lighter. She manages a smile, even if it is just a small one.

“Amén, y lo mismo para mí,” she murmurs.

{"Amen, and me too"}

She closes her eyes and leans her head against the wall, content with just basking in the unexplainable peace she feels in her heart. She knows God is near to her, and is holding her in his arms right now.

And for Elena, it’s enough.


	47. Fight For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: finale or post-finale speculation (prompted by BookedbyFandoms)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL LET'S BREAK OUT THE CHAMPAGNE, BEER, JUICE, WATER OR WHATEVER YOU DRINK BECAUSE WE HAVE. A. NEW. SEASON!!!!!!
> 
> But first, let's have a little bit of pain (because what's Agents of SHIELD without heart shattering content?)

Jemma slammed her palm against the side of the desk in frustration. She’d fought to hard for Fitz to lose him now. 

A black box on the screen taunted her with the words “no results found”. She’d show the stupid machine what ‘no results’ looked like. 

Fitz had been on the run, much like Daisy had been this time last year. So, logically, since Jemma had experienced this before, she  _ should _ be at least semi-used to it by now...right? But it wasn’t. Nothing was ever the same with Fitz. He was a special man. 

Special to  _ her _ .

Jemma hung her head, feeling tears burning in her eyes. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they kept getting torn apart like this. All they wanted was to be together. But no, the bloody cosmos just  _ couldn’t _ leave them alone, could it. Jemma felt something deep, deep inside her snap.

“What do you want from us?” she shouted, looking at the ceiling. Then, without thinking, she picked up an empty flask and hurled it at the opposite wall. It smashed into a million little pieces (much like her heart was).

“Jemma?” 

Jemma flinched at the soft touch of Daisy from behind. She wrapped her arms around her chest so tight she found breathing a bit difficult.

“Go away, Daisy,” Jemma said, amazed her voice didn’t waver. Although, it was quite flat, so her mood must have been given away. 

“No.”

Jemma whirled around, feeling angry. “I want to be left alone.”

“No, you want Fitz,” Daisy corrected gently. Jemma hung her head. She knew her friend was right. The two stood there in silence for a while before Jemma’s shaky breath broke the silence.

“Yeah, I do,” she squeaked out. Daisy pulled her into a tight hug. Jemma cried into her shoulder, Daisy soothing her quietly. 

“Remember what I told you when we were fighting these robots?” Daisy asked after Jemma’s crying had subsided. Jemma nodded.

“You said that this wasn’t how our story ended,” she answered softly. Daisy nodded.

“That still stands,” Daisy whispered. “You two are not destined to be apart; you’re destined to be together. You’re soulmates.”

Jemma pulled back with a wet laugh, and swiped at her eyes, and then she looked at Daisy seriously. “You really believe in soulmates?”

Daisy nodded. “Although, truth be told, I didn’t believe until I met you two. You guys are the actual definition of soulmates: fighting for each other against all odds.”

That was all the assurance Jemma needed. She nodded. “Does this mean you’ll help me get him back?”

“Of course,” Daisy said with a smile, reaching out to hold her friend’s hand. “I’d be an awful friend if I didn’t assist fuel the power of Fitzsimmons, would I?”

Jemma let out a loud bark of laughter and Daisy smiled softly at her. Together, the two of them got back to work to find a way to bring Fitz back.


	48. The Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on The Science Love Song by AsapSCIENCE, just because we all are in desperate need of Fitzsimmons fluff after this season.

Jemma smoothed her dress as she got out of the car. She stood a moment, staring at the _incredibly_ fancy restaurant; it looked so fancy in fact, that she was pretty sure that neither of them could afford it, not even with their combined salaries. She bit her lip and hesitated.

“Ma’am?”

Jemma turned to see the driver standing there with an expectant look on his face.

“Oh, right.” Jemma fished out twenty dollars from her purse and handed it to the driver. He took it and then drove off, leaving Jemma standing out on the curb. She shivered in the chilly breeze, and she decided to simply wait inside. After all, it was always possible that Fitz had merely made a mistake in the address he gave her. And there was no point catching frostbite over a small mistake.

The inside of the restaurant was even grander than the outside. With a high ceiling supported with pillars plated in gold, and a pleasant light warming the place, the restaurant could easily double as a modern palace.

Even dressed in what Jemma knew was her most elegant dress, she couldn’t help but feel out of place. She pulled out her phone and texted Fitz.

_Where are you? I’m at Keraton._

“Welcome to Keraton,” a chipper female voice greeted her. Jemma jumped, having not seen her, but quickly regained her composure and smiled at the greeter.

“Hi.”

“We’re very pleased to have you. What name is your reservation under?”

“Uh, well, you see-” Jemma’s explanation was cut off by her phone buzzing. It was Fitz.

_Same place, but upstairs._

_Reservation name is Fitz._

“Fitz,” Jemma answered the greeter, a million thoughts tumbling through her head at once. The greeter’s smile grew bigger.

“Wonderful! Your place is upstairs in the VIP area.” The greeter led Jemma over to the stairs, and then left her. Jemma was now more confused as ever as she gently pushed the curtain open. It was the softest she’d ever felt, and she couldn’t help but gasp.

No. Why was she thinking about curtains? She ought to be thinking about the things she was going to say to Fitz. Like why the hell he would reserve a restaurant way above anything he would ever be able to afford.

But before she could think of anything, a picture caught her eye. It was lying on the fifth stair. She stopped behind the curtain and bent down and picked it up.

It was a proper print-out photo. It was a collage of selfies they had taken over the years – the one they’d taken in Peru, the one they’d taken on the Bus, the one they’d taken at the Playground, amongst others. But the one that caught Jemma’s attention was the one in the middle. It was the first one they’d ever taken together, back at the Academy.

* * *

 

_The sky was painted in a breathtaking combination of orange, purple and blue as the sun set lower. Jemma and Fitz sat one the hill, overlooking the campus, enjoying each other’s company at dusk. They weren’t talking; simply soaking in each other’s presence._

_Suddenly, Fitz spoke. “Can we take a selfie?”_

_“Huh?” Jemma turned to look at him. She’d been so deep in thought, she hadn’t really been concentrating._

_“I know it’s kinda dumb, but it’s been exactly a month since we became friends, I kinda just wanna, you know, save it in a photo or something...” He trailed off, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, ducking his head, and he quickly backpedalled. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”_

_“It absolutely is not,” Jemma countered gently, slipping his phone out of his pocket. “I think it’s a cute idea. Let’s.”_

* * *

 

Jemma smiled at the memory. Fitz had been so happy afterwards, and they’d celebrated with pizza and Bill Nye the Science Guy. It had been one of her happiest days at the Academy.

She raised her hand to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear, but stopped short when she saw a flash of black out of the corner of her eye. She looked down at her fingers, smudged with black ink.

“What the…”

She turned the photo over, and saw writing on the back.

_I’ll be the spark if you’re be the flame_

_We can start a reaction that can’t be contained_

_Balance your pH by sharing my base_

_I’ll be your star, if you’ll be my space_

“Oh, Fitz,” she chuckled. “Only you would greet me with the Science Love Song.”

She grinned to herself and continued up the stairs. Just around the corner, there was a rock with a string attached. Jemma furrowed her brow. A rock was quite an odd thing to leave fo-oh. Right. No distance he wouldn’t go through space, time and wormholes, his matter would float to the edge of the universe.

Jemma felt a tear roll down her cheek, overwhelmed by the emotion of what had happened back then. She wondered briefly how any one man could love so deeply. But that thought was replaced with one of how special Fitz was – after all, no ordinary man could ever love like that. She slipped the rock into her purse.

A coupe more steps up, she found an ICER, dissembled. On the rounds was a label with G/T written on it, and the gun itself had a label with A/C written on it. Jemma couldn’t help but smile

“I’ll be your G, if you will be C,” she recited quietly. Or I can be A, if you will be T. If there’s a mutation, I’ll fixe every base.”

Jemma licked her lips hurrying up to the top,, where a taser lay. She recognised it as the one that had contained the antiserum when she’d been infected by the antivirus. On it had two red x’s and one big green tick. Jemma giggled. He was doing really well.

She put the taser in her purse with the ICER, and continued on. She very soon came to another curtain, which she eagerly stepped through. On the other side, Fitz stood in the finest tuxedo she had ever seen.

He smiled softly when he saw her. “Hi, Jemma.”

“Hey, Fitz,” she replied, butterflies beginning to flutter. She took his hand when he held it out and he escorted her to her seat, and then he sat down next to her, offering her a menu. She looked at him blankly.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged. “You can have whatever you want.”

Jemma raised her eyes. “Can I afford it?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Fitz said, placing a reassuring hand on hers. “I’ve got it covered.”

“But Fitz! I don’t want you to go into debt because of-”

“Jemma!” he gently interrupted. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered. Just enjoy yourself. Please?”

Jemma sighed, and relented. She trusted Fitz all the time in the field; she trusted he knew what he was doing now. She picked up the menu and began reading.

 

**40 minutes later…**

 

Jemma sighed contentedly and laid her cutlery down on her plate. That was one of the best meals she’d ever had.

“This place is amazing, Fitz,” she said. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

In her peripheral vision, Jemma saw Fitz nod, and…was that a nervous swallow? She turned her head to him.

“Fitz? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he assured her. “It’s just, well, uh, I need to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

Instead of answering, he handed her a binder folder. Jemma took it without question; she knew how hard it could be for him to get the right words out.  The binder folder turned out to be a scientific report, which both surprised and confused Jemma.

But it began to make sense quite quickly. It was a scientific report, detailing how beautiful and lovely he thought she was. It was a love letter, written in the most Fitz way a love letter could be written. She got to the end, and found the conclusion empty.

She looked up at Fitz, confused. It was unlike him to not to finish something science or maths related. Jemma became even more worried when she noticed the perspiration forming rapidly on his forehead.

“Fitz, are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Just, please let me speak.”

“Okay,” Jemma agreed, turning fully to her.

“Um, well, first, lay the things I left on the stairs when you walked up.” Jemma did as she was asked. Fitz took a moment to look them over. “Well, y-you must have figured out they’re to do with the Science Love song. And, um, well, I think you’re like that angle in the song, y’know, a-cute and smart and your lab coat and goggles go straight to my heart, ‘cept that’s a lie, ‘cause we both know equally well that the heart doesn’t feel, and instead that when it comes to love, it’s my brain that seals the deal.”

Fitz’s rambling slowed down towards the end, and when he finally looked up from where he’d been staring at her hands, her breath was taken away by the sheer amount of love in his eyes. She wanted to speak, to say something, but words escaped her. Plus, Fitz had asked her to wait, so she decided that even if she had words, it’d be best to remain quiet.

“And, um, well, uh, I left the conclusion off the report because, uh…”

“You want us to write it together,” Jemma breathed out. Fitz nodded.

“Yeah. So that’s why I wanna ask you, um, uh,” Fitz let out a shaky breath, and then breathed in deeply, dropping his gaze again to Jemma’s hand. “Will you marry me, Jemma?”

Jemma breathed in sharply, bringing her  hand up to her mouth, feeling tears burn in her eyes. Then she launched herself onto Fitz, attacking his lips with hers. He didn’t hesitate to kiss back. When they finally pulled away, they were both grinning from ear to ear.

“That’s not an answer, Jemma,” Fitz said playfully. “That’s a kiss.”

“It’s a yes, you monkey,” Jemma giggled, bouncing in her seat like a giddy high school girl.

“Good,” Fitz said with a soft smile, pulling out his little blue velvet box and presenting the ring to her. Jemma gasped.

“It’s beautiful,” she uttered out, unable to say anything else.

“For an even more beautiful woman,” he countered. Jemma rolled her eyes, but she was grinning.

“Aww, Fitz,” she said, turning bright red. Fitz smiled at her.

“I actually can’t take all the credit,” he admitted, sliding the ring onto her finger. “Daisy gave me that one.”

Jemma gaped, all the pieces suddenly coming together. She narrowed her eyes. “By chance, Fitz, did Shield have anything to do with the ability to afford such a place?”

“That, Agent Simmons, is classified,” Fitz teased. Jemma scrunched up her nose at him.

“You _do_ realise that I outrank you, right?” she shot back.

“Now, now, Simmons, not everything is a competition,” he chastised playfully. Jemma’s mouth dropped open again.

“Do you want me to marry you or not?”

“You’ve already said yes,” he said, dismissing her threat. “No take backs.”

“Oh shush you,” she snapped, trying to hide her smile. Fitz grinned smugly, but then quickly turned serious.

“Plus, if you changed your mind, I’d be no more. I’d give up H2O for H2SO.”

“As if I could change my mind. Even if you took away gravity, I’d still fall for you.”

“Jem-ma! I’m the one who’s supposed to say the cheesy, romantic stuff!”

“Now, now, Fitz. Not everything is a competition.”

This elicits a chuckle, much to her delight.

“Touché,” a pause, “I love you so much, Jemma.”

“I love you, too Fitz.”

The two rest their foreheads against each other, and it’s as if they’re the only people in the world, and it feels as if it’s going to last forever. And even if the cosmos wants to interrupt them now, they know they’ll have the rest of their lives to enjoy moments together.

They’d have forever to write the conclusion together.


	49. Who's My Daddy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy is pregnant and has a daughter. Robbie is in for the biggest surprise of his life when he returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where did this idea come from? I don't know.
> 
> Just a silly idea that popped into my head and I somehow managed to turn it into a full fic. Enjoy :)

**_A few weeks…_ **

Elena was passing the bathroom when she heard a groan from inside. She furrowed her brow. She was _pretty_ sure none of them had been drinking last night, despite the celebration, so it was unlikely that it was a hangover.

Curiously, she tapped quietly.

“Hey, you okay in there?”

“Mornin’, Yoyo,” Daisy’s groggy voice answered from inside. Elena pushed the door open to see Daisy sitting on the ground by the toilet, supporting her head with her hand. She looked incredibly green around the gills.

“What happened, Daisy?” she asked empathetically, placing a hand on Daisy’s back. Before Daisy could answer, she had to puke a bit more. Elena held her hair back and then passed her some toilet paper to wipe her mouth.

“Dunno,” she muttered. “Could be a stupid bug, or...”

“Or what?” Elena  prompted after Daisy didn’t finish.

“...morning sickness.”

* * *

  ** _4 months…_ **

Daisy squealed and tried not to squirm as Jemma ran the...thing (she forgot what it was called) over her tummy. It was cold and it tickled and she had to grip the armrest to keep from squirming about.

“Healthy as ever,” Jemma announced happily, interrupting Daisy’s fight to control herself. Daisy looked over at the screen. Sure enough, there was her kid, heart beating happily. She couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t even know this mini human and yet she loved them with all her heart.

“You hear that?” Daisy said to the kid inside her belly. “You’re healthy and happy! I’ll bet you might even be as strong as me when you pop out in a few months’ time.”

“That’s scientifically impossible,” Jemma interrupted with a laugh. “Newborns aren’t-”

“Shh, Jemma!” Daisy scolded. “Don’t crush the kid’s dreams!”

* * *

  ** _9 months…_ **

“Fuck! This hurts!” Daisy cursed loudly, gripping the sides of the bed so hard she was sure her bones were going to break - if the railing didn’t.

“Well, you are pushing a watermelon out of a lemon,” Elena teased, earning her a glare.

“You try being here giving birth!” Daisy hissed before screaming again. May put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. Elena simply covered her mouth to hide a smile.

“One more push ought to do it!” Jemma said from down the other end. Daisy groaned loudly as she did as she was told, and then flopped back, panting. In the sudden silence of the room, Daisy heard her baby gasp, taking in air for the first time and then let out a loud wail.

She closed her eyes and smiled as Jemma scooped the child up. That sound was honestly one of the best sounds she’d ever heard. Her baby was out. Her baby was alive. But damn did her butt feel weird.

“My vagina feels weird,” she muttered, earning a laugh from Jemma.

“Well, that’s to expected after giving birth,” she said simply, pulling the blanket up over Daisy. “It’ll return to normal in a few days.”

“Where’s my baby?” she murmured after a moment. She felt really tired.

“Fitz is doing all the usual tests,” Jemma said, helping Daisy get comfortable. “Your daughter will be here shortly.”

Daisy smiled. Daughter. That was a good word. Slowly, she closed her eyes.

She only opened them when she was shaken awake to be presented with her child. She took the bundle of cloth and held it to her chest. And there, peering through the mass of material were two shining brown eyes, much like her own. She grinned from ear to ear.

“Hey. Welcome to the world.”

* * *

  ** _4 years later…_ **

“Mama, why don’t I have a Daddy?”

Daisy peered over the counter at her daughter. “Hmm?”

“A Daddy,” Michelle repeated. “All the other kids at school have one - Ollie even has _two_! Why don’t I have one?”

Daisy licked her lips, thinking about how to answer that. It was quite a complicated and loaded question, and she had no idea how to explain it to a four-year-old kid.

“Well,” she finally said slowly. “You _do_ have a Daddy, it’s just that he’s not around.”

“How come?”

“He….has a very special job to do that means he has to go away a lot and sometimes doesn’t come back for a very long time.”

“Oh.” Michelle began coloring again, before stopping again after a few seconds. “How long ago did he come back?”

“Last I saw him was before you were born,” Daisy said, staring intently at the cake mix in front of her. It was always hard to talk about him, and even harder to hope that he’d ever come back.

“You love him, don’t you, Mama?” Michelle asked. Daisy nodded.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Does he love you?”

“I think so, yeah.”

She smiled slightly when two little hands appeared in her vision and made themselves comfortable on top of her own.

“My teacher says that if two people love each other, that they’ll always find their way back to each other. You’ll find each other again someday. I _know_ it, Mama.”

“Well then,” Daisy recoiled her hands gently. “How about you finish that coloring off for when your Daddy does come home?”

“Okay.”

Daisy hoped that one day he’d be able to see the drawing his daughter did for him.

* * *

  ** _3 years later…_ **

“Mama?”

She sounded frightened, and Daisy came running. Entering the room, she saw Michelle pointing to a fire ring appearing. Daisy’s eyes widened as blue began to appear in the middle. It couldn’t be...could it?

She gasped softly when Robbie Reyes stepped out. Then she grinned, throwing her arms around him.

“Robbie!”

“Yeah, good to see you too, Daisy,” he greeted gruffly, though she could hear his smile. He gently pushed her away and greeted the rest of the team, who Daisy didn’t even realise had entered the room. “And who’s this?”

Michelle clung to the back of Daisy’s leg, eyes wide. Daisy smirked.

“Robbie, I want you to meet your daughter, Michelle,” she introduced, placing a hand on the back of Michelle’s head. “Michelle, this is your Daddy.”

Daisy’s smirk grew as Robbie went through about five emotions and three seconds. That was all the reaction she had hoped for and more.

“My daughter?” he choked out. Daisy nodded, grinning. Robbie fainted.

* * *

  ** _A little while later…_ **

Robbie awoke to several pokes on his cheek.

“Looks dead to me, Mama,” a little girl’s voice said noncommittally. Girl. Daughter. Michelle. Right.

Robbie opened his eyes.

“Nope. Not dead!” Michelle declared. “He is very much alive. Unless dead people can open their eyes.”

“Welcome back,” Daisy said, kneeling next to him. She was still wearing that same stupid grin.

“What the fu-”

“Uh! Kid around.”

“How the…did that happen?”

Daisy’s stupid smile grew wider. “Well, Robbie, when a man and a woman love each other…”

“Yeah, right, funny,” Robbie grumbled, pushing himself up.

“Hey, Mama, what _does_ happen when a man and woman love each other?” Michelle asked. “You never finished the sentence.”

“They have a baby together,” Daisy answered easily, helping Robbie up.

“Oh. Does that mean me ‘n’ Tommy are gonna have a baby together?” Michelle asked, tilting her head. “Because that could be quite nice. I think I’d like a girl.”

“No, you and Tommy are _not_ going to have a baby together,” Daisy said. Michelle’s face fell.

“Why not?”

“Because you are a boy and a girl. It is only when a _man_ and _woman_ love each other.”

“What’s the difference?” Michelle demanded, crossing her arms.

“Men and women are grown up. Boys and girls are not.”

“Then _I_ must be a woman,” Michelle decided. “Because I am _very_ grown up!”

Elena snickered and buried her face in Mack’s chest to hide her smile.

“Not yet you’re not,” Daisy said, kneeling down in front of Michelle.

“Then when _will_ I be grown up?”

“Ask me again in ten years,” Daisy answered, booping Michelle’s nose. That was always her answer whenever Michelle asked her about grown-up stuff. Michelle huffed, but accepted. Daisy turned back to Robbie, intending to give him a welcome-back kiss or something, when Michelle interrupted again.

“But if it’s only a man and a woman who have a baby together, how come Ollie’s Daddies have him? They’re both men.”

Daisy sighed and took a deep breath. She’d have to kiss Robbie later.

“Remember how I told you about adoption?” Michelle nodded. “Ollie’s Daddies adopted him.”

“Oh.” There was a moment before, “But how come men can’t have babies together?”

Daisy cringed. Why did it have to be _that_ question right _now_? She glanced at Robbie and got a perfectly devious idea in her head.

“I think your Daddy is more qualified to answer that one,” she said, biting back a chuckle as Robbie paled. Michelle turned to Robbie as Daisy stood up.

“Well, Daddy? Why can’t two men have a baby together?” She crossed her arms over her chest again.

“Good luck,” Daisy whispered cheekily, patting his shoulder a couple of times as she passed.

“I never signed up to be a fucking father,” Robbie muttered, grabbing her arm to stop her. She grinned at him.

“Too bad. You can’t fight biology, Reyes.”

With that, she yanked her arm free, winked at him, and waltzed out. Robbie stared down at the seven-year-old.

“I’m waiting, Daddy,” she said expectantly.

_Definitely got that from her mother._

“Well, uh, girls and boys are, uh, different…”


	50. Homesick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma goes back to Hogwarts.  
> Daisy's homesickness for Narnia kicks her hard. 
> 
> A Hogwarts/Narnia AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who was homesick for Narnia today? This gal.

“Do you have to go?” Daisy whispered into Jemma’s ear as she hugged her tight. Jemma hugged her back just as tight.

“It’s okay, Daisy,” she soothed. “It’s just for a few days. I’ll be back before you know it.”

She pulled back, forcing Daisy to get go. Daisy let her eyes scan over the black robe with just the right amount of green mixed in. Daisy sighed again, then clenching her jaw to hold her tears back.

“Do you have to?” she repeated. She didn’t want to be alone. Well, at least not because of  _ this _ . In reality, Daisy just didn’t want Jemma to go back. It reminded her of the place she  _ couldn’t _ go back to, and it stung.

“Daisy, we’ve talked about this,” Jemma said softly. “It’s a special event.”

“It’s just a stupid reunion,” Daisy muttered, crossing her arms, trying not to be resentful.

“ _ And _ the celebration of two millennia since Hogwarts was founded,” Jemma reminded, a hint of annoyance at Daisy’s insistence seeping into her tone. 

“Look, Daisy, I know you’re feeling homesick,” Jemma stated with an edge after a moment. “And trust me when I say that I know what that feels like. But it’s not fair for you to take it out on me.”

Daisy looked away. She knew Jemma was right, but she didn’t know what else to do. It hurt so  _ bad _ , and all she couldn’t express it in a way that didn’t hurt anyone else. The first tear slipped out despite her best efforts to hold it back. 

She flinched when Jemma’s hand gently rested on her shoulder. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Jemma suggested, the sharpness gone from her tone. “I’ll contact you later on so that you don’t have to feel so alone. Deal?”

Daisy nodded, and let Jemma pull her back in for another hug. When Jemma pulled away, Daisy watched silently as Jemma hurried to board the train. She waved back weakly when Jemma gave her a goodbye wave and smile. Then she watched helplessly as the  _ Hogwarts Express _ disappeared into the distance. 

She stood on the platform, staring in the direction the train had gone, some part of her hoping it would come back. Or that another train would come along and take her home. Or something,  _ anything _ really, to ease the ache in her chest. 

Nothing happened. For hours she stood there, and nothing happened. 

When her legs got tired, she sat down on the platform, still watching, still waiting. But still, nothing happened. 

The reality of the  _ nothingness _ finally slapped Daisy in the face as night set in. 

Jemma was home. 

She was not.

She was never going home.

He’d said that she wasn’t needed there anymore.

Daisy finally began to cry. Big, fat, ugly tears. She cried, and cried, and cried, until she couldn’t cry anymore. She just felt so  _ empty _ . She hadn’t felt this way since she was a little girl of eight years old. 

She didn’t know how long she sat there and cried, but at some point at time, she found Mack beside her. She nodded slightly to acknowledge his presence, but didn’t say anything.

“I thought I might find you here,” Mack said quietly. A moment paused before he added, “Jemma’s off to the reunion?”

Daisy nodded shortly, wanting to cry more, but finding no more tears in her. Mack didn’t say anything more, instead simply rubbing her back in a soothing motion. It was a long while before Daisy spoke. 

“I haven’t felt this way since I watched him die,” she said in a tone barely above a whisper. Mack let out a short hum of understanding. Daisy sighed and dropped her head. 

“The only difference is that then I got to watch him come back to life,” Daisy said a bit louder. “But now…”

She choked on emotion and lowered her head as far it could go. 

“Now you can’t even have hope that there’s a happy ending,” Mack finished for her. “I know, Tremors.”

Daisy turned into him and he embraced her. A fresh batch of tears that she didn’t even know she had came spilling over. Mack said nothing, only held her as she sobbed. After another long while, Daisy’s sobs subsided and she turned her head so she could breathe, but made no effort to move from Mack’s embrace.

She felt numb, as if time had stopped and nothing was ever going to happen ever again. 

Then Mack began humming softly. It was their favourite song to dance to when they were there, and it had become a comfort, a constant. Daisy felt him begin to sway her gently, and she relaxed fully into him, and waited until Mack had finished the song before she mustered up the strength to speak. 

“How do you manage?” she asked weakly. 

“It’s hard,” Mack answered, knowing exactly what she meant. “I guess I just have to do stuff that reminds me of home. Like singing that song, for instance. Or draw a creature or place I encountered. Sometimes, I battle the forces of evil with my stick sword in my room or backyard. Yoyo thinks I’m crazy when I do that.”

Mack chuckled at the end, and drew a smile out of Daisy. The moment lingered for a short while before Daisy’s smile fell. 

“It’s still not the same,” Daisy sighed.

“We’ll return someday, Tremors,” Mack said in the same tone. “We just have to trust him.”

Daisy nodded, although having trouble. Mack knew all her moods, and was able to notice this one, too. He gently shook her.

“Don’t give me that, Tremors,” he scolded playfully. “The Finder of Narnia can’t just quit! What would Mr Tumnus have to say about  _ that _ ?”

Daisy couldn't help but let out a little giggle at the thought of the faun trying to scold her. It was quite the image. Mack chuckled, too. This time, the moment lingered for a lot longer, until Daisy shivered. 

“Come on, let’s get you indoors. You’ll catch a cold out here.”

“You sound like Bobbi,” Daisy grumbled, although allowed Mack to help her up. “Always trying to mother me.”

“You and Fitz  _ need _ to be mothered,” Mack countered, helping her up and out of the station. “You’d both be dead several times over if you weren’t!”

Daisy opened her mouth to protest, but realised Mack was right. There had indeed been  _ several _ instances where their….impulsivity landed them in trouble. So instead, she just pouted.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Daisy retorted, pulling her coat tighter around her. 

Mack just laughed.


	51. Slytherin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous who prompted me with: "Huntingbird" and many thanks to Sheridan for prompting me with "hogwarts houses".

Bobbi was deep in thought when Hunter sat down next to her. So deep in thought, in fact, that she didn’t even register that he was there. At least, not until he snapped her out of her hyperfocused state.

“Bob!” he said, clicking his fingers right by her ear. She flinched, and then turned her head. 

“How long have you been there?”

“A fair while,” Hunter answered, peering over her shoulder at the computer screen, which she promptly shielded from his view. “What’re doing on there, Bob? Porn?”

His joke only earned him an eyeroll. 

“I’m not you, Hunter. I don’t get joy out of seeing half naked, or fully naked people. I was...making stuff.”

Hunter let out an interested hum. “What kinda stuff?”

Bobbi hesitated, and eventually answered with, “Just stuff. Nothing much, really. You’d not be interested.”

Hunter tilted his head. He’d never seen Bobbi this...shy. Sure, she could be reserved and mysterious, but never shy. His interest piqued. 

“Try me,” he coaxed gently. Bobbi again hesitated. “Come on, Bob. I promise I won’t laugh, or say anything bad, or have an exaggerated reaction.”

“Promise?” 

She looked almost scared now, like she was about to share her deepest, darkest secret. It made Hunter feel scared, too, that he could be about to be trusted with something as delicate as a china plate. 

“I promise,” he said, nodding. Sure, it may be scary, but in his experience, fearing something means that it’s a risk worth taking.

Slowly, Bobbi moved her hands away, and Hunter drew in a short breath at what he saw. On the screen were four graphics of different colours. One was red, one yellow, one blue, one green. On top of each of these backgrounds were sentences, quotes he thought, placed below an emblem, which he recognised as the hogwarts houses’ emblems. 

He leaned in, wanting to see more of the detail. As he did lean in, behind the quote and emblem, on each graphic, there was text that was a similar colour to the background, but just light or dark enough to be seen. The text was small, and there was a lot of it, and Hunter wondered what it said, but he couldn’t be bothered trying to read it right now.

“Did you make this?” Hunter asked in awe, turning back to Bobbi. She nodded shyly.

“I like to make graphics sometimes,” she said. “It helps calm me, and it’s nice to be able to create something, rather than just killing or punching someone.”

Hunter let out a breath of laughter at that. “True that. These are amazing, Bob. Who said those quotes?”

Bobbi smiled, ducking her head at the compliment. “They’re C.S. Lewis quotes, and I thought that these ones summed up each house quite nicely.”

Hunter looked again, and then nodded. “I agree. Speaking of houses, which are you in?”

He twisted his chair around so that he could rest his elbow on the table and put his head in his hand.

“Slytherin,” she said, her smile turning proud. “Which are you?”

“Well I like to  _ think _ I’m Gryffindor,” Hunter said. “But I’m probably a Slytherin, honestly.”

“Yeah, you are,” Bobbi agreed. The two then spent the next four hours discussing the houses and their traits. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is totally me self-indulging my special interest. I hope you enjoyed it :)


	52. What If?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by Sheridan: "What if". A little insight to Bobbi in the season 2 finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all Sheridan's fault.

_ What if… _

What if she’d not followed Kara out of the base? 

She’d probably be curled up next to Hunter on the couch, watching Star Wars. She’d probably be covered in crumbs from the chocolate chip cookies they’d have snuck from the kitchen. She’d probably laying on his lap, being disgustingly domestic, and he’d probably be trying to braid her hair. 

_ What if… _

What if she’d not left the plane when it landed in the field, and instead tried to fly it back? 

She’d probably have been able to make it off the ground before Ward got to her. She’d probably have run the risk of being shot out of the sky, but she’d probably have been able to outmaneuver Ward. She’d probably have made it back to the base with only a minor inconvenience of a few hours lost.

_ What if… _

What if she’d simply apologised like Kara and Ward wanted?

She could be dead. She could have been released. But it was more likely she’d be dead. She knew Ward. He’d kill her the moment she gave in. It was better that she didn’t. She just had to hold out until the team found her and rescued her.

_ What if… _

What if Hunter was the first one through that door?

She’d probably never forgive herself. She’d probably mourn forever. Yes, he was a pain in the butt, but she loved him. She  _ loved _ him so much it hurt. She might be driven to the point of suicide. But even if she was, she knew the team wouldn’t let her. She knew that one of them would knock some sense into her. 

But none of that was going to happen. Because no one,  _ no one _ she cared about was dying today. 

_ But what if someone was? _


End file.
